


To Forget

by smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boxing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Memory Loss, Modern Bucky Barnes, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Repressed Memories, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:57:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 46,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11094510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger/pseuds/smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger
Summary: Bucky is a boxer on his way to the top, Y/N is about to graduate from college when something terrible happens. With Y/N's memory gone and Bucky floundering they must learn to navigate their new reality together, if Y/N can learn to trust Bucky again.“Just please know I love you and that I’m sorry. It’s not important if you love me. It’s important that you know I love you. And that I’m sorry and that I’ll always be here for you.”





	1. Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm really excited for this series! Please let me know what you think!

“He was on his way to the top. And then…” Sam shrugs. “The accident.”

Y/N watches the man lay into the punching bag through the hazy yellow afternoon light shining in the small gym from cracked, old windows. “Is he medically cleared to be doing that?” The man punches slower, more carefully with his left fist and winces harder, grits his teeth tighter.

Sam shrugs again. “Don’t know. He’s not my problem.” He turns to her and takes her by the shoulders. “One thing you have to know before you start this job. Their problems are not your problems.” Sam looks her in the eyes, “You’re dad never figured that out. You’ve got to.”

“I know him, don’t I Sam?”

He looks away, releases her shoulders. “Yeah, used to.”

Her chest tightens and she suddenly doesn’t want to be in her dead father’s gym anymore. She had thought that spending time there would help, that running the boxer’s gym would bring her closer to the man she lost not so long ago. After everything that happened she thought maybe it would help bring her memories back, that it would give her a sense of normalcy. Everything is still just confusing.

A shard of memory slices into her mind then. A guy, maybe fifteen, holding his hand out to her as a laugh passed his lips. He has short dark hair and bright blue eyes and she thinks, even in memory, that he’s beautiful.

A harsh breath leaves her lungs as she presses a hand to her chest. “What’s his name?”

Sam snorts. “Bucky.” He’s walking away, shaking his head, “What a fucking name.”

“Sam wait.” She rushes forward and wraps her fingers around his bicep. “Does he know?”

“That you lost your memory? Yeah.”

Then she’s alone. It’s past closing. She had fetched Sam from his office because she wasn’t sure what to do about the lone man still beating the shit out of the sandbag.

She creeps closer to him, watches the muscles in his back twist and ripple through the material of his shirt. Something about that seems familiar, the movement of muscle. It’s so familiar she can almost feel his skin beneath her fingertips. “Bucky?” She calls, feeling a little ridiculous. Y/N wraps her arms around her torso and puts a small smile on her face as he turns.

Sweat drips down his forehead as he observes her carefully. “Yeah?” Something in his voice is hopeful and it only fills her with dread. There’s a softness there that doesn’t belong. Her teeth clench as a loud booming voice echoes in her ears and then ricochets away, so quick she can’t identify the speaker.

“Well we’re closing.” Her voice is hard and quick and it makes him frown. “And-,”

“I’m waiting for Steve. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” He sounds sad, broken. His left arm is scarred, angry red lines twisting up and down what was once smooth pale flesh.

Her heart is pounding against her ribs and she doesn’t know why, why she’s so nervous. He stays facing her, looking rather awkward. She glances at his hands. “You should really wrap them when you don’t use gloves.”

He smiles then, bright and blinding, white teeth glinting. “You always have been too concerned with my wellbeing.”

Y/N’s heart stalls in her chest. Another half memory floods her mind. Someone had a bloody nose. _Doll, I won’t let anyone talk about you like that. I-_

“Doll?” Bucky has come closer. Concern is etched onto his face.

She takes a terrified step back. The way he’s looking at her makes her feel strange, like she can’t breathe, like he wants something from her. “Don’t call me that.”

His face falls and he takes a shaky breath. “Sorry.” Bucky is wringing his hands now, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t remember.”

Something inside her lurches again. She doesn’t want him to be sad, can’t stand the thought of this person suffering. “I-,” Her eyes go to his hands again. “Let me help you.”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Alright.”

She turns on her heel and walks briskly away, wondering who this person was, who he is to her. Before the accident-

The noise inside her head gets loud again. She can feel her hand tapping against the side of her leg. But she feels it as if from a distance, like its someone else’s nervous hand against her thigh. Just like all her memories feel like they belong to someone else.

She leads him to her father’s old office. Bucky sits in a chair against the wall as she walks around the desk and roots around in one of the drawers for a first aid kit. When she finds it she moves the other chair in front of his and holds out a hand. Gently he lies his in hers. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“What happened to your arm?” She traces one finger against a raised, red line.

His voice is surprised when he asks, “Sam didn’t tell you?”

She looks up from his bruised and bloody knuckles. “I-I don’t know, I don’t remember much. Maybe-,”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.” Her fingers are gentle against his skin, warm and soft, unlike the roughness of his own. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

“Sam tells me things sometimes but I forget. I forget a lot. Now.”

“Do you remember me at all?”

Silence. She doesn’t want to say no. Clearly he’s supposed to mean something to her or her mouth wouldn’t be this dry, her hands would shake like this, her heart wouldn’t be pounding and her head throbbing.

It occurs to her suddenly that she might have been afraid of him before. Maybe he had hurt her in some way and that’s why she feels so anxious around him. She jolts out of her seat, doesn’t want to be in the same room as him anymore. “Y/N?” He sounds concerned. “Hey, I didn’t mean to-,”

“No,” she stumbles backward. “No. I think it’s best if you wait out by the front doors. Um-,”

He holds up his hands, wincing when his shoulder aches. “Please, babydoll, I-,”

Y/N shakes her head. “Please go.”

“Please,” he whispers. “Y/N, please, I’ve loved you since we were kids. It’s killing me. This is killing me. Sam said it was best to stay away at first and I agreed but-,”

She can’t stop tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Go. Go, please. I don’t remember you. I’m sorry but I don’t know you.” Tears are building at the backs of her eyes, her heart is pounding, lungs burning. She feels like she’s going to scream, can feel it building in the back of her throat.

An image flashes in her brain. Someone above her, a burning between her legs. His eyes are as bright as the stars behind his head. _Am I hurting you?_ He stills. _Tell me when I can move, sweetheart._ The burning goes away. _You can move._ There’s a bruise on his cheek. She touches it softly. His hair is short. _I’m sorry-_

She opens her mouth to scream when-

“Buck?”

The voice sounds familiar. Sam appears in the doorway, takes in Y/N’s terrified body language and Bucky’s apologetic hands as he stares at her with desperation in his eyes. “Damnit Bucky,” he says as he comes into the room. A man with blond hair enters the room behind him. He sighs too as Sam wraps an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

Bucky stiffens and glares at Sam as he lowers his bandaged hands. The blond man is shaking his head and saying something to Bucky who doesn’t look at him.

He tries one more time, eyes pleading, “Y/N, please-,”

“No,” It’s the blond man who speaks. “No, Buck, you lost that right. C’mon let’s go-,”

“Steve-,” Sam starts, hugging Y/N a little closer. “It’s not-,”

Steve shakes his head. “C’mon Bucky. I told you to stop coming here. I told you not to come around Y/N.” He looks at Sam. “He doesn’t get the right to plead with her like this after everything that happened.”

Bucky stands up suddenly, trembling with anger. “How can you say that? You won’t even let me near her. No one has explained what happened. I just-,”

She watches as his mouth trembles and then he bites his lip until blood appears. He meets her eyes. “Just please know I love you and that I’m sorry. It’s not important if you love me. It’s important that you know I love you. And that I’m sorry and that I’ll always be here for you.”

He yanks out of Steve’s grasp. The front door slams a few seconds later, the glass rattling in the frame ominously. 


	2. Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Y/N is waiting for her father to come back into his office. She smiles and swings her feet, not yet able to touch the floor. A new boxer had come to the gym this morning and that always meant good things.

Especially if the boxer was good at boxing and decided to stay at the gym. That meant she got to go to her favorite diner when they went home in the evening. Y/N always got a treat when things went well.

The office is small and close, warm and damp with city summer heat. It smells like sweat and leather and old spice. It smells like home. Y/N is just thinking that she’ll go down the hall and ask Sam’s father Paul for some change and get a drink out of the vending machine when the door flies open. A boy is standing there, panting and a little wild eyed. He’s sweating, his dark hair is sticking to his forehead, as if he had ran all the way there. His eyes shift to meet hers. They’re blue and fierce and angry and that’s when she notices the bruise on his jaw. There are more bruises littered on his arms. They’re shaped like someone had grabbed him too hard, like fingerprints and large, harsh hands.

“Hi,” she says.

He straightens his spine and hikes the bag he carries up his shoulder. She thinks it’s a large bag for someone so thin. “I want to be a boxer,” he declares, voice shaking just a bit.

She blinks at him and wiggles in her seat. “Are you any good?”

He falters, the anger seeps out of him, “Well...uh, n-not yet. I-I want to learn.” She’s learned a lot about boxers in her short time on earth and she thinks this boy is too skinny, too angry, and too sickly looking. But then she remembers what her dad is always telling her: anyone has potential no matter what size or shape.

She tilts her head to the side and smiles, “Well you could be a good one then. Wanting to learn, that’s really good! You’ll have to ask daddy when he gets back.” Y/N pats the seat next to her. “What’s your name?”

The boy comes closer and hops up next to her, letting his gym bag fall to the floor, “Bucky.”

She giggles, never having heard a name like that before. “I like it. How old are you?”

“Seven.” He pushes his hair off his forehead. There’s oil under his fingernails and scratches on his knuckles. 

She gasps, “Me too!”

Something about her smile sticks in the small boy. He finds himself smiling back, something he hardly ever does. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

It’s then that her father comes back into the room and takes in the extra seven year old with bruises and a gym bag. They’re introduced and Bucky secures, quite nimbly and with the help of his new friend, a spot in training. Y/N vouches for him firmly and his heart jumps a little. No one’s ever spoken about him so kindly and this girl has only just met him. He’s taught some of the basics that very same day, by Paul and Frank and Y/N herself, and then he goes to dinner with them at the diner around the corner that evening. Another boy called Sam joins them and Bucky only feels a little jealous when Sam gets to sit next to Y/N and not him. They have hamburgers and fries and milkshakes. And Y/N’s father smiles and says to Paul, “Well I did secure two new excellent boxers today so it’s a call to celebrate.”

Bucky beams, the bruise on his jaw becoming a bit more prominent. Frank’s smile is pained as he glances at Paul.

 

~

 

Bucky jerks awake in bed violently and reaches over for Y/N without really thinking about it. Her side of the bed is cold and he panics for just a moment before reality settles back in his brain and around his soul. Flopping back in bed, Bucky groans and reaches out for his phone on the bedside table.

No messages. No missed calls.

It’s been three days since he’s been back to the gym, three days since he’s seen Y/N, and three days since he potentially pushed her away.

Why couldn’t Steve just let him see her? It’s been two months since the accident. They’ve never been separated for this long, _never_. He’s floundering, doesn’t know what to do anymore. There’s a hole in his heart where she used to rest, and it hurts. It hurts because he loves her but also because he doesn’t know how to be without her. He doesn’t _want_ to know how to be without her.

But he’s being selfish. Bucky knows she’s in therapy, that she remembers very little, that she’s confused and anxious and afraid. But he dreams of the first day he met her nearly nightly now. And when he wakes up she’s never where she’s supposed to be, right by his side.

Bucky is so alone. He’s never been so lonely in his whole life. Steve doesn’t want to talk to him, Sam has tried helping, feels bad for him and let him in the gym when he wasn’t supposed to be. Natasha and Wanda want nothing to do with him. And the worst part is that he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. Because he does. He deserves every bad thing that’s ever happened to him. If he never feels Y/N’s love again, her touch, then he would deserve it.

It was stupid and selfish of him to lie to Steve about where he was going. Stupid not to wrap his hands so that Y/N would see and worry, because even now she’s kind and concerned with others, even someone she doesn’t know at all. It had been stupid to try to get her alone, stupid and selfish to let her wrap his hands, just so her could feel her touch again. She used to touch him so softly, used to murmur in his ear how she would never let another person lie a finger on him.

It had been stupid. It had been selfish. And everything is still his fault.

His knuckles are raw and twinge with a sharp but familiar pain. His left arm is burning again, aching all the way from his hand to his shoulder. His soul and heart aches. And the apartment aches worst of all, because it is so silent, so absent of anything that’s  _her_. His girl, the love of his life, the person who his last words to before she had forgotten everything had been  _I don’t love you. I never have. I wish you would stay away from me._

Those words echo in his head so loudly some days that his skull aches, that he feels that if he reaches up and touches his head blood will be pouring out of his ears, his nose, his mouth. Everything hurts so badly, so fiercely. And his relief doesn’t remember him, in fact seems to be petrified of him.

Bucky sits up and realizes his cheeks are wet. It’s four in the morning and he’s crying and he won’t be able to go back to sleep. His throat aches with the effort to keep more tears at bay.

It doesn’t work very well and he chokes out a bitter laugh, body rigid with tension.

And then the phone rings.

His brow furrows as he picks the device back up. No one calls him anymore. And then his heart nearly stops when he sees the display name.  _My girl_. He sits in shock, just staring, before he answers quickly, worried that it might stop ringing.

“Hello?” Bucky’s voice sounds wrecked and desperate to his own ears.

No one replies but he can he can hear her breathing. He says her name and a soft gasp hitches out of her throat. “Are you okay?” Something might have happened to her. It wouldn’t be the first time. He starts to struggle out of bed, the blankets tangled around his hips and legs.

She seems to suddenly find her voice. “Yes, I’m fine. I-,” She pauses and Bucky hears her swallow hard. He stops struggling, her voice soothes him instantly. The tension drains out of his shoulders and he bows his head, releasing a hash breath as he covers his eyes with his unoccupied hand. “I-Sam is asleep. I got your number from his phone.”

They had deleted his contact then, to keep them apart, for Y/N’s mental security. Sam must being staying with her at her father’s old place. Jealousy threads through his veins. She should be _here_ , in their apartment. She should be graduating in a few weeks, they should be happy and together but he ruined all of that. He ruined everything. “I-not that I’m not happy you called me but…why? You seemed-,” Terrified of him. She had seemed so _afraid_ of him.

“I know how I seemed,” she whispers into the phone. “But I haven’t stopped dreaming about you since that day at the gym. And I think…I think they might be memories but I don’t know. All I know is that my heart seems to miss you.”

She quiets suddenly as though she’s afraid she’d said too much. Her breathing is light and quick, like a hummingbird's wings. He remembers Y/N in front of him at the gym, bouncing lightly on her toes. _C’mon Buck! Just one jab! You won’t hurt me!_ They had been ten and he had been in love, a love he had never fallen out of.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything because she's talking to him and he can't lose this opportunity to interact with her, to speak with her, when she interrupts him. “Why do they keep us apart?” Y/N’s voice is barely above a whisper. “What did you do to me?”

“Sweetheart-,”

“I have to go.” There’s panic in her voice. Something must have surfaced in her mind. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Wait!” He clutches the phone tighter to his face. Anxiety threads through his veins as he waits for her to hang up.

When the line doesn’t go dead he swallows hard and lies. Because there’s a reason he isn’t supposed to be around and her mental health is more important than his feelings. He knows that now. “They don’t want you to remember anything too suddenly. It could hurt you more. You’re in therapy. And it’s better if-,”

“You said you love me.”

He’s going to throw up. “I-,”

“And if you love me then why don’t they want you around me?” She sighs. “I’m tired of feeling like a child. I…the dreams, I know they must be memories. Sam doesn’t want me to know certain things and I want to know. I want to know. I need you to tell me. It’s been two months since I woke up and-and I’ve been nothing but confused and _a-alone_ but I dream about _you_. I need you. I need you to tell me. _Please_.”

Silence stretches between them after that until Bucky asks carefully what it was she's remembered. His heart aches for her, her begging makes him sick. The guilt is killing him, he wants to tell her so badly. Acid swirls in his belly and he clenches his teeth to keep from screaming.

She doesn’t answer him immediately but he waits. “I dreamed of your mouth against mine. Once it was the first time, the others…I think they were during-,”

He sucks in a harsh breath. Everything about her seems to flood him suddenly. Her scent, the way she tasted, the feel of her around him when she came. How warm she was and deliciously wet. How she had always been soft and never pushed him and how he had been the same for her, soft and patient. How her lips felt to be kissed when they were swollen and red. Her fingernails scraping gently against his hair.

“Okay. It’s okay, Y/N.” Her breaths are catching horribly in her throat.

“Please,” she whispers, “I need your help. I think you’re the only one that can help me.”

Bucky has never been able to deny her. He knows he should say no, that he’s going to get shit from everyone for this. But she’s asked him to help her, to guide her. “Yeah. Okay.” And besides, he’s selfish. He needs her, he loves her more then she will ever know. Most of all he wants the chance to fix things. There’s still a chance, still hope.

“Tell me what happened. About the accident? How did I end up this person? Who…who is Y/N? I don’t even know who I am.”

He takes a shaky breath, “Baby, you have to understand I can’t…can’t tell you about the accident. Not yet. It’s too soon. Steve told me they want you to try to remember on your own.”

Something that sounds horribly like a suppressed sob echoes through the line. “Why not? What happened?”

“I can tell you who you are.” He offers hopefully. Bucky could talk forever and a day about her, would never run out of things to say about her, memories to share.

She sniffles. “That’s not good enough.” The line goes dead and his heart shatters. The hand still over his eyes clamps down harder and his head begins to throb worse.

 _I don’t love you. I never have. I wish you would stay away from me._ And now he’s getting his wish.


	3. Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever and I could not tell you why...it just wouldn't flow but I've got it to where I feel happy with it. 
> 
> I would love hear feedback! Thanks for reading!

She paces her room for hours after she hangs up on Bucky. Her heart is racing, something scratching fiercely at her insides. A voice in her head, that sounds notably calmer and cooler than she feels, is saying she should not have hung up on him like that. Already she wants to talk to him again, hear his voice in her ear again. 

Sam is in the living room, snoring on the couch, but the present sound of quiet domesticity only makes her feel more alone. She feels like she's missing something, like she's lost a limb. And she knows it's because of  _him._  Bucky.

They're at her father's apartment, which feels both intimately familiar and foreign. It's clear though, by her bedroom walls, that she hasn't lived here in a few years. Maybe she had been living at the university? Her steps quicken, anxiety roils inside her, sick rising up in the back of her throat. Panic threatens to overwhelm her again. 

Because she knows that's not right. 

Her pace slows, her steps falter, pain throbs in the back of her head. 

 _Morning baby._ He’s handsome in the morning. Short, soft hair tousled gently, lips pink and slightly swollen. His arm is over her waist. She's naked. Fingers trail along his cheek.  _Her_  fingers.  

_Morning._

_I love you._

_I love you too._

Y/N bends at the waist and vomits on the floor. Because it was soft and warm and nice. Clearly she had loved him. Clearly he still loves her. So why aren't they together? What had changed?

In the memory he had been a little younger, looked a little less hollowed out. He looked happy. In the memory, she feels happy. So what had happened between then and now?

Sam opens the door then and looks at her with pity in his eyes. She’s still bent over above the pool of vomit, clutching her stomach, and all Sam does is come over and pat her on the back, guiding her to the bathroom, instructing her to brush her teeth. Hatred fills her veins. Not for Sam, who she’s been told has been her friend since birth, but for the look in his eyes. They all walk on eggshells, treat her like glass, hold pity and unwanted sympathies in their hands. And all she wants is to be told the truth, for someone to look her in the eyes and _talk_ to her. She feels more and more like a lonely broken child with each passing day. 

But Sam seems to have some need to be her caretaker at the moment and so she lets him run a washcloth under cold water, settle her on the couch, and instruct her to put the cloth over her eyes.

Her chest hurts as she imagines, again and again, the look in Bucky’s eyes in the memory. Such softness and love. Then she thinks about the walls in her bedroom. There are posters of bands she no longer recognizes, handwritten notes, drawings and photographs, old movie ticket stubs and concert tickets, film posters and prints of famous paintings. All four walls are almost entirely papered over in things that were… _are_ important in her life.

But there are gaps. Photograph sized gaps, letter sized gaps. Gaps whose emptiness are painful.

Someone had ripped them down and she has a good guess who they might’ve featured. Her teeth start to ache from how hard she’s grinding them, clenching them together.

Y/N was wrong to hang up on him. She knows he can’t tell her about the accident. No one else will and if he cares about her as much as he seems to then he won’t jeopardize her health like that. But she does need someone to tell her about herself and she thinks he might be the closest to her. Bucky knows her and in the process she might learn something about him, she might remember him. Maybe this way too, she can judge whether she can trust him or not.

Without waiting for Sam to come back to the living room she leaves the apartment. She knows the short walk to the gym by heart. No one had had to show her when she woke up. Everyone supposes it must be muscle memory.

 

~

 

At the gym, securely in her father’s office, she redials Bucky’s number, now saved in her phone and memorized.

It takes him a long time to answer again. But this time he sounds sleepy instead of desperate when he does.

“Hi Bucky.” Before he can say anything else she continues. “I’m sorry for hanging up on you. That was rude of me.”

“That’s okay, babydoll.” He sounds breathless and it deters her from telling him again not to call her that. “Really it’s okay. I understand.”

He's so kind it makes her eyes water. “Well it was still rude. I know you can’t tell me about the accident and I shouldn’t have tried to make you. But I think I do need someone to tell me about me.” He’s quiet and so she continues. “I think you should be that person. You’re the only one I’ve met that seems to want to tell me the truth. At least some of it.” She sighs, “I’m at the gym, in my father’s old office. If you have time-,”

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

It’s only seven in the morning. She smiles.

 

~

 

He makes it there in less than five minutes. He feels sort of stupid as he parks his motorcycle in front of the gym. Actually he feels like an asshole, he feels the deep throb of guilt in his gut. He hates the damn bike but he can't get rid of it. Bucky just doesn't have the money to trade it for a car. 

In Frank's old office, Y/N is pacing. She comes to an abrupt halt when he walks in the door. There was a time, not too long ago, when a smile would have spread over her face and she would have run to hug him, to kiss him, to murmur in his ear, _I missed you, Buck. How was training?_ Now she just frowns and steps back distrustfully. 

"Hey, doll." Bucky also knows that he should stop calling her doll and sweetheart and baby, that it wasn't helping anything, just confusing her further. But its second nature. He's called her things like that since forever.

“Hi.” She says, her mouth an uncomfortable tilt. “Uh, sorry about asking you to come over so early.” Y/N twists her fingers nervously together.

His smile is soft and so are his eyes. “I’ll always come when you call, Y/N.”

Awkward silence rings around the room after that as she looks anywhere but his eyes. The dirty floorboards, the yellowing walls, her scuffed shoes, have all suddenly captured her attention. It’s never been awkward between them, not ever. But things seem to be changing, things _have_ changed. And not for the better.

“Why don’t we go on a walk? Around the city?”

“Is that something we used to do?”

He nods, “When we wanted to get away from the gym for a while, or you wanted to get away from your schoolwork. When I wanted to get away from my-,” He freezes. He had been about to say _my family_. He clears his throat harshly and looks away, jaw clenching. “Away from everything.”

Sympathy runs across her face as they leave her father's office. When they reach the front of the gym however Sam is there with his arms crossed over his chest and a stern expression on his face. They feel half like teenagers getting caught sneaking out.

“Sam-,” Bucky starts, reaching out to take Y/N’s hand without thinking, needing the comfort and reassurance of her skin against his. She jumps and flinches, darting away from him. His heart shatters but he’s glad it’s only Sam here, who, surprisingly, out of everyone, seemed to believe his side of the story.

Conveniently, as everyone else has so kindly pointed out to him, the other side of the story has been erased. With Y/N’s memory gone, and possibly forever, there’s no way to get the other half of the story. She could tell them Bucky’s telling the truth, tell them-

“Bucky!” Sam snaps his fingers in front of his face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He flounders for a moment, mouth opening and closing comically, as he tries to think of a good excuse, a good lie.

But Y/N is better than him, always has been, and so she tells Sam the truth. “I called him Sam.”

“Y/N-,”

“Sam. This is my choice okay? I think…he can help.” She doesn’t seem to want to say Bucky's name. “I’m trying my hardest to remember but just sitting around, _here_ and in my room all day, it’s not helping anything. At least when he’s around I-I _feel_ something.”

Bucky closes his eyes. _Fuck_. Sam is only going to read into that the wrong way. And he’s right. When he opens his eyes Sam is glancing between them suspiciously. “Like what?”

She shrugs, looking smaller and more confused by the minute. It makes him want to wrap her in a blanket and keep her bed all day, shield her from the hurt the world can inflict. “Just something.” Her voice is quiet.

He pushes past Bucky and takes Y/N’s hands, who doesn’t jump or pull away. A raised eyebrow is sent Bucky’s way. As if to say, _see? She doesn’t flinch when I touch her_. “You have to promise me to tell me if anything happens.”

She frowns and glances at Bucky, a shard of fear in her eyes now. “I’ll be okay.” Pride dwells in him, because she chooses him.

“Just promise me.”

“Okay.”

He releases her hands, nods, and walks away.

 

~

 

She keeps her arms crossed over her chest as they walk along and carefully keeps her distance, a foot of space between them, practically as far away from him as she could be on the small sidewalk.

Rage is humming in his blood, though he supposes he understands Sam’s concern. He understands why Sam keeps her so close. For one, Sam had promised to take care of her when Y/N’s father died. But they had also promised each other, as children, to always look after each other.

It’s a promise she no longer remembers.

Sam does though, and it isn’t one he’ll soon forget.

Bucky remembers it too. He remembers the hot jealousy in his stomach as he watched from shadows of her father’s apartment’s hallway. It had been early morning, the light cool and the world silent, as they sat on the couch together. They had promised to always watch the other’s back, protect against threat, because that’s what they were, best friends practically siblings. That did not stop him from wanting to throttle Sam.

And Sam had been there before Bucky ever was. Their fathers had been best friends and, in the end, so were they.

He had been thirteen and filled with a hot anger that only Y/N seemed able to temper. That fury is a part of the reason why no one trusts him now. He hadn’t interrupted them, let them make their promises, as he stood in the hall alone, covered in bruises after what he thought was the worst night of his life.  

“Bucky?” Her voice draws him away from his dark thoughts. “Were we friends? Before?”

Anguish.

That’s what this feeling must be.

Pure, unchecked agony.

She doesn’t even know if they had been friends. “Yeah,” he can hear the distress in his own voice. “Yeah. Always.”

She frowns but moves closer to him on the sidewalk. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for all of you. I’m sorry I’m making it harder and I’m sorry that you’ve got it worst of all.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

They walk for a time in silence but this time it’s a comfortable one. She doesn’t stay so far away, moving closer to him on the sidewalk.

Bucky leads them to a park. They sit quietly for a while on a bench until Y/N reaches over and tentatively puts her hand over his. He jumps and jerks away and could kick himself when she pales and looks guilty. “Sorry.” She scoots away, looking down. “They tell me that I was an English major at college. And creative writing and art minor.” She looks over, “My room is covered in movie posters and drawings and-and letters.”

Y/N looks at him expectantly. He swallows uncomfortably. “You wrote to me all the time. To everyone really. But you wrote stories for me.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean…you wrote letters to other people. But you wrote _for_ me. Stories. Because you trusted me to read them. And to distract me.”

She looks at him like she knows, like she remembers. And Bucky wishes she would try to put her hand over his again, hates that he lost the chance to hold her hand or at least feel her skin against his. “Distract you from what?”

He thinks about his mother and then his old man and the one time Y/N met them both and he decides not to tell her. Bucky shakes his head and tells her about something good. He doesn’t want her to believe he’s a monster. “You came to every one of my boxing matches and in exchange I went to the theatre or the ballet or a film festival. We tried to paint together sometimes. You and uh, you and Stevie tried to teach me to draw.”

“And we…what else did we do together?”

“God...Y/N we did everything together. We boxed together and went to school together and did homework together. We ran together and ate together and slept together. And I don’t mean-I don’t mean sex. I mean we’ve shared a bed so many times over the years I’ve lost count. But I know that’s not what you want to ask.”

She bites her lip and eyes his hand sitting between them on the bench. Slowly he reaches over and offers his hand, palm up. Cautiously her eyes raise to meet his. “I don’t know why I want to touch you. I-I don’t even know you-,”

He touches her arm. “You do though. You’ve just forgotten for the moment. Maybe your body remembers.”

A nod. She doesn’t pull away from his touch, doesn’t flinch. “When did we get together?”

“We were fifteen.”

“And why do they keep you away from me?”

“Y/N-,”

She pulls away from his hand as her mouth pulls into a tight line. “I deserve to know that.”

“I can’t.”

For a moment she looks like she might argue, a wild fire driving into her eyes, and Y/N as she was comes back to him. Argumentative and willing to call him on his bullshit when needed. Because he _could_ tell her. It has nothing and everything to do with the accident. He could tell her a half-truth and leave the accident out of it. But a half-truth still feels like a lie. Instead of arguing with him she takes a deep breath and says, “Fine. Tell me about you.”

“I thought-,”

“I think I was wrong. _I_ need to figure out who I am, until my memories come back. I need to…do it myself.” She frowns again, forehead creasing. “Sam keeps me cooped up in the apartment all the time. He says he’s letting me run the gym but really he does it all. I’m so bored and anxious all the time. All I can think about is everything I don’t know and how…Natasha and Wanda and Sam all look at me with such disappointment and pity and…I know I’ve only seen you a couple of times but you don’t look at me like that. You look at me like you understand, like it’s okay and you’ll wait and you don’t expect anything.”

A reluctant smile makes its way onto his face. Even when she doesn’t remember anything he still manages to know her best. “What do you want to know about me?”

“I don’t know why but I want to know everything. I thought I was afraid of you but now I think that feeling is excitement. You make me excited.” She leans close, “We were troublemakers weren’t we?”

Now he smiles, full and big, “Maybe a little bit. So were Sam and Steve but somehow they never got caught and so they looked like the golden kids with wild best friends.”

“Tell me about you. Tell me how we got in trouble.”

She’s smiling. She looks happy.

The anger and sadness that is always coursing through him goes away. He feels better, he feels happy. And he thinks that, for a moment, Y/N has forgotten to be reserved with him. She’s craving freedom and he knows Sam isn’t doing her any favors by suffocating her with protection. 

“Okay.” He would hate the way his voice sounds so soft and loving if he were with anyone but Y/N.

And, as simple as that, they sit in the park and talk all day.

Its late evening when they get back to the gym, Bucky having taken Y/N to the diner for dinner to see if it would jog any memories. It didn’t but he gets to watch her try her favorite food again for the first time. Her expression of bliss had almost been worth it.

Sam and Steve are waiting for them when they walk through the door.


	4. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Steve’s arms are crossed over his chest and Sam stands nearby looking just as severe. “Where have you been?” The question is directed at Bucky but its Y/N who glances up at the harsh tone and answers.

“Bucky took me to dinner, Steve,” Y/N address him, standing straight and looking him in the eyes.

He shakes his head, “All day?” Without waiting for a reply he looks back to Bucky, “You lied to me again.”

Bucky winces and looks away from his best friend. “Steve I-,”

“You lied about where you went. Again. And you _know_ you aren’t supposed to see Y/N.” He shakes his head and looks disapproving in a fatherly sort of way that only Steve can pull off. He opens his mouth again when Y/N interrupts him.

She steps forward and in front of Bucky protectively. “I called him. Twice actually.” She turns back to Bucky who has a scrunched look of pain on his face, “Thanks for dinner. Thanks for talking to me today. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

The wounded expression on his face disappears as she reaches out to touch his arm. The back of her hand slides down his arm and then falls away. “Okay.” He looks better, less guilty, more at ease. “See you tomorrow.”

Y/N leaves without a backward glance, not even waiting for Sam. Which she usually does now, since the accident. But she decides that two months is enough moping. Maybe she doesn’t know Steve or Bucky or Sam or Natasha or any of the rest. Maybe she can’t remember her childhood or the sound of her father’s voice or where her mother’s grave is located. But she’ll start trying, _actively_ trying to remember. And she’ll do it herself, on her own terms.

 

~

 

“You’re a bad influence on her.”

It’s what Steve says to him as soon as he walks through the apartment door. Bucky doesn’t look at him, just shoulders past, trying to get to his room. He hates his room but it’s better than listening to Steve’s inevitable lecture.

Bucky had tried to take the long way home from the gym, Steve having left before him, stewing in self-hatred and guilt as he did so. Sam had seen the bike parked out front. He hadn’t been amused. Bucky can’t much blame Sam.

“Bucky!”

He’s nearly down the hall, if he can just shut and lock the door-

Steve’s hand catches the door and pushes it open.

At one point he wouldn’t have struggled against Steve at all. Bucky had been stronger and bigger. But now, with his injured arm, and the struggle that it is to box because of it, he can’t. He’s weaker. He’s lost weight. He could be described as lean bordering on skinny. Because of his injury, because of the stress, because of everything. Because he’s missing Y/N, one of the only comforts he’s ever had in his life.

And so now Steve stands in the middle of what was once his and Y/N’s sanctuary. Her easel still stands in the corner, her books and clothes are still littered around the room, letter and stories she's written, drawings too. Nothing has been moved or touched. When she comes home, he thinks, she’ll move it herself. She doesn’t like having things in her organized chaos moved.

Bucky sighs heavily and sits down on their bed. Pushing his hair out of his face he rakes it up into a bun at the nape of his neck. “What do you want Steve?” He asks as he leans his elbows on his knees.

“You shouldn’t-,”

“Don’t do that.” His voice takes on a razor sharp edge. “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be around her.”

They stare each other down and Bucky hates the tension that’s formed between him and his best friend. It’s his fault though. It all is. “I will. It isn’t good for her-,”

“You don’t know what’s good for her-,”

“Bucky,” his voice is hard, nonnegotiable. “You aren’t mentally stable and neither is she-,”

“I’m fine-,”

“No-,”

“Stop-,”

“Were you hitting her?”

It isn’t the first time he’s been asked but it still makes his breath stall in his lungs. That anyone could think he hit her, _hurt_ her in any way-

“Were you?” Steve swallows hard. “Bucky, tell me. Were you hitting her?”

His hands start to shake. His arm and shoulder are throbbing again. “No.” His voice is quiet. “No, of course I wasn’t.”

All of the anger goes out of Steve suddenly as he hangs his head, shaking it slowly as he sits next to Bucky on the bed. “I don’t want to believe it pal but…they examined her. The doctor was so concerned he-he told Sam he was afraid that she was being abused.” He pauses, swallows hard. “They weren’t marks you get from a motorcycle accident. And you two were-were-,” he falters, turns pink, “-having sex. You must have seen and so-,”

“So I did it? Is that it?”

Steve runs one hand angrily through his hair and stands. “For God’s sake Buck!” He begins pacing the room as anxiety starts to rise in Bucky. He doesn’t like it when people are angry with him and people are angry with him all the time now, for no reason at all. It’s almost like living with his mother again. Only this time he couldn’t just leave the house because seemingly the whole world is angry with him.

“The neighbors heard you screaming that day. You two fought all the time and you might be able to pretend everything was perfect and fine but it wasn’t. You guys were on the rocks and you know it. I don’t want to believe you were h-hurting her but your excuse-,”

“Isn’t good enough.” He repeats the words everyone had spat at him that day in the hospital when they had confronted him.

Steve huffs out a breath, sits back down. “Buck, I love you, you’re like a brother to me. But…you saying you knew about her injuries but that you can’t tell us where they came from…It sounds like bullshit. You said you only found out that day. But-,"

“It’s not bullshit.” He looks down at his hands, squeezed together in his lap to stop them from shaking. “I love her. And I understand what it sounds like. If I were you I wouldn’t believe me either. But Steve,” he turns to his friend. “You know me. You know I would never hurt someone I cared about.”

“On purpose.”

“What?”

“You would never hurt someone you care about on purpose.”

Bucky clenches his eyes shut. “I never hurt her.”

“The pills-,”

“I only took them once. And I never took them again. It didn't help the pain in my arm anyways and they made me feel awful. I can show you the bottles. Still sealed and everything. I didn’t like how they made me feel…angry again, and fucking sad.” He looks at Steve, doesn’t blame him for thinking the worst. They all cared about Y/N and he _is_ the shady one in this situation. “Stevie please, I would never hurt her. God, I would rather die than hurt her.”

Steve reaches over and pulls Bucky into his side. “Okay.”

“Do you believe me?” He thinks it’s a stupid question even as he asks it. Of course he doesn’t.

He pats Bucky on the back. “I need you to tell me why they think someone was hurting her.”

“I promised-,”

“She doesn’t have her memories, Buck. She might never get them back and I really want to believe you but…I saw the photos.” He lets go of Bucky, “And the neighbors told me what you were saying, yelling that day.”

_I don’t love you. I never have. I wish you would stay away from me._

He had been so angry and afraid that day. And for what?

To lose everything.

He hadn’t meant those words, had asked her sharply to get on the bike and then they had taken off. He did not mean those words. Hadn’t meant them. Will never mean them. Bucky had been afraid, terrified. The only thing that mattered in that moment was getting her somewhere safe. Because he had not known that someone had been hurting her.

“And then there’s the fact that she wasn’t wearing a helmet-,”

Bucky turns harshly to Steve, “She told me to go like that. We were going-,” To their safe place, the place where nothing could touch them. Although they’d never went when one of them was so angry.

“Was it worth it!?”

“No!” He jumps up and stares Steve down. “But no one listens to me! When we went riding she never wore one-,”

Steve stands too, breathing heavily. “And that makes this any better?”

“Of course it doesn’t!” He roars, “I just want someone to listen to me for one goddamn second. To listen and _hear_ me! It’s not how it seems! I know what it seems like!”

He crosses his arms, “Go on then. Explain it.”

“When we went to our place, ya know the field and the forest, that was the only time she didn’t wear one. She was adamant about it. And you know Y/N once she’s made up her mind, it can’t be changed. I always went slowly, I was always careful.” Until he hadn’t been.

Steve shakes his head. He’s angry. It isn’t good enough. But Bucky already knows that. “You shouldn’t have let her. You shouldn’t have taken her. You should have made her wear that helmet.”

He trembles. His shoulders slump. “I-,” He stares at the floor, “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

Steve stands and hugs him again. “I don’t hate you Buck. I just can’t understand.”

“What would you have done differently?” He whispers, the guilt so painful now he thinks he might throw up.

“I would have protected her. But I also would have protected you.”

He cries into Steve’s shirt for a long time after that until the other man makes him lie down. “If you can promise me right now that you’ll tell me one day soon I will believe you. I never really thought you could hurt her its just-,”

There was no one else. It could only be him. He’s the boyfriend after all. But there’s something Steve doesn’t know. “I promise Steve.” His eyes are red, cheeks flushed. He’s so tired. “Thanks, pal.”

“Yeah anytime.” Steve flicks the light out. “I’m on your side. I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Me too.”

He falls asleep. His phone dies.


	5. Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!

There are fingers dancing over his chest, smooth and gentle. Sunlight is filtering around them through the leaves of the trees overhead and he can hear running water nearby as a breeze blows past him. Bucky smiles before his eyes are even open. Because they’re safe here. They’ve always been safe here, in the forest outside the city. No one has ever found them here, nothing bad has ever happened here, and he always gets Y/N to himself. She’s tucked snugly against his side, the warm sun doing nothing to deter them from being pressed together.

“You’re awake and very bad at hiding it.” She traces her fingers up to his throat, rubbing the light stubble littered there and on his jaw and cheeks. “Are you going to let it grow?” Before he’d always been clean shaven but now, as he started to gain popularity, he needed to look more intimidating. Steve and Sam suggested Bucky let it grow.

He opens his eyes to meet hers before she leans up to press her nose into the skin of his throat, letting out a content sigh. “Maybe. Depends on how my girl likes it.”

“She likes it just fine. Although her thighs kind of hurt because of it.”

“Sorry babydoll. I just can’t help myself.” She’s wearing just his shirt, and panties. The rest of her clothes are scattered by the creek and in the grass, along with his own. He presses his mouth to her ear, whispering, “You just taste too good.”

Y/N giggles as he rolls them over, hovering over her as her eyes roam his body. “You’re starting to get pretty big.” She trails her hands over his biceps. “It’s all that training. You need to slow down a bit.”

“Can’t. Not if I wanna be the best. Not if I want to be able to give you everything you deserve.” Slowly he leans down to brush his lips over hers. “Did you have a good nap? Sleeping like a cat in the sun?” She just keeps tracing up and down one arm, seemingly mesmerized before she looks back to him and grins.

“You fell asleep too,” Y/N accuses. But her smile is wide and Bucky only mirrors it. “And I did have a good nap.”

“Wore you out, didn’t I?”

He smirks down at her and she groans. “You’re a menace! I’m still sore-,” He rolls his hips against hers, lowering his forehead to rest against her neck. A quick breath hitches out of her lungs and so he does it again, agonizingly unhurriedly so she can feel every bit of him.

Bucky kisses her neck gently, just the way she likes. “C’mon doll, let me love on you.” He nips at her throat, soothing over the sting with his tongue.

“We need to be getting home soon. I have class in the morning and I have a paper to write and Dad needs help at the gym and-,” She voice trails off as she rakes her hands up his sides, pleasure flooding her as she forgets entirely about everything else.

Rutting into her in earnest now, slow and deliberate, trying to get as much friction as he can, he lets out a sound between a moan and a growl. She arches up into him and pushes her hands into his short, dark hair. “Please baby? I know you want me too.” He punctuates that fact by stilling himself and reaching between them to slip one hand into her panties. “You’re wet for me.” He presses his thumb to her clit and circles it slowly. “Please, babydoll? I’ll go easy on ya this time.”

“I want you,” her voice is heady and needy. “On one condition.”

He stops and groans and pulls back from her neck as he removes his fingers from her clit. She’s smiling devilishly at him. “God you know how to ruin the mood.”

Y/N throws her head back and laughs, loud and echoing, full of unchecked happiness. His breath catches as he looks down at her, so beautiful and wild when she laughed. Reaching up, she takes his face between her hands and strokes her thumbs beneath his eyes. “The next story I write for you is going to be called: The Boy With No Patience And The Girl Who Ruined The Mood.”

“I love it already.”

“You can’t! It hasn’t been written yet! Besides I’m going to make you the antagonist because you’re always _antagonizing_ me.”

He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I love you. Always have. And so everything you create I love. Even if I’m the antagonist.”

She blushes, her eyes skirting his, and deigns not to answer before she wiggles her eyebrows at him, “Wanna know my condition?”  

“Now who has no patience?”

“Hush.” Her smile is so wide and bright it hurts his heart to look at. “My condition is that I get to be on top.”

Bucky has them flipped again almost immediately. “Done.” He grips her hips hard and whispers, “Not much of a condition, baby. I love to watch you like this.”

She rolls her hips into his a few times, looking as though she’s thoroughly enjoying what he’s sure is a blissful expression on his face. “You love a lot of things when it comes to sex,” she murmurs, trailing her fingers teasingly down his stomach, making his muscles clench. In an effort to get her to get on with it and stop teasing him, he puts his hands on her hips and makes her drag slower over his hardened length. She hisses and throws her head back before taking the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head.

“God,” he whispers, stroking her thighs gently. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Bucky just keeps staring at her, his long fingers now playing with the waistband of her underwear, a soft smile on his face.

Just as he’s about to reach up and touch her, pull her in for another kiss, she leans down and brushes her nose against his. “I love you,” she whispers, her voice tender and cracked with sudden emotion.

“I love you.” Bucky presses his forehead against hers, his voice just as wrecked as hers. “I always will. No matter what.”

“Want me to fuck you now?”

“Jesus Christ, yes.”

Full laugher echoes through the trees as the sun starts to set.

 

~

 

Bucky jerks awake in bed. The lighting is wrong, the angle of it distorted and slanted strangely. He’s panting and sweating and the room is spinning. Steve is calling for him.

The door opens suddenly. “Buck?” Steve’s eyes find him on the bed. “Are you alright?”

“F-fine.” He sits up and closes his eyes, waits for the world to stop spinning so fast.

They hadn’t known they were being watched that day. Not only had someone seen them being intimate but they had seen just how much he loves her and that, as it turned out, was dangerous.

“Y/N’s here.” The light starts to make sense. It's late afternoon and he never usually sleeps past early morning, unable to silence his mind.

“What?” The words aren’t computing as he tries to push away the sheer happiness and bliss associated with that memory but also the rage and heartache that came with it later. Once _he_ came into their lives. “She isn’t talking to me, remember? I’m not allowed to see her.”

Steve stares at him for a few seconds, eyebrows raised, before the last few days come rushing back. “Sorry. Sorry. I-,”

“It’s okay, Buck. She’s worried about you. She said she was supposed to call you and you didn’t pick up. She got so worried she came over…”

“Send her back.”

“Buck-,” Steve looks apprehensive bordering on last night’s distrustfulness.

“It might help her remember something Steve. This room is half hers. Not her childhood bedroom. Something more recent might help.”

Steve bites his lip and shifts from foot to foot before he nods and disappears again. A few minutes pass in which Bucky tries and fails to make himself and the room a bit tidier. Y/N pushes the door open looking supremely concerned. “Hi. I…maybe I shouldn’t be here but…I said I’d call and I did and you didn’t answer.” She ducks her head and frowns, tugging at the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “And I worried that maybe I’d upset you or that maybe something bad had happened and I started to panic and here I am.”

Bucky looks at her for a second, really looks at her. At the way she shakes just a little, trembles, her fingers twitching against her crossed arms. At the way she shrinks into herself and does her best not to make eye contact, stares at the hard wooden floors as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

It’s such a contrast from who she used to be. Confident. Wild. Happy. Loud.

But he’s different too.

“Come here.” She walks forward, sits on the bed, keeps her eyes forward. “I know they told you that you lived at home, a-at your dad’s apartment. But you didn’t. You lived here. With me. And Steve and Peggy, when she’s here that is.”

Y/N frowns. “Peggy?”

He winces, “Sorry. She’s, uh, Steve’s girl. Away at school at the moment.”

Silence. But it isn’t harsh. It’s contemplative. “Bucky.” She states his name and then looks at him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “You forget a lot. I don’t have memories but you forget things.”

Looking very much like a curious puppy she tilts her head to the side and waits. “I’ve had my share of concussions over the years. Sometimes things don’t stick. Or they do and it takes a minute to come back.”

“Why do you call me doll?” The sudden change in subject has his head spinning and so he doesn’t answer immediately. “It’s sort of an old timey thing to call someone isn’t it?”

He swallows thickly, remembers Y/N’s eyes gazing at him as they laid together on her father’s living room floor. They had both been on their stomachs, facing each other. Y/N legs had been bent at the knee, her feet visible above her head as he looked at her. She had been wearing overalls and missing both her front teeth. She had been drawing him and he had been looking up pet names in a book he found at the library.

_“I’m gonna be a ladies man, Y/N.”_

_“Are you?” She smiles and looks up._

_He nods, “Gonna have all the girls sweet on me.”_

_“And how are you going to do that when you smell like sweat all the time?”_

_“I do not!”_

_“Fine. Now tell me.”_

Bucky shakes his head and smiles. “When we were maybe eight or nine I got it in my head that I was going to be good with girls. And to stand apart I found sort of older pet names. And I started calling you doll. I kinda hoped you’d get it y’know? That I liked you. But you never cottoned on and I had to tell you later on.”

That makes her smile. “Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“The pet names!” She tugs at her sweater sleeves, smiling before she bumps her shoulder with his. “Did it turn you into a ladies man?”

He pats her thigh, “I was only worried about one lady.”

Heat floods her cheeks and she quickly stands and moves away from his touch. Instead deciding to examine the art on the walls. “I didn’t answer your call because my phone died,” he explains as she slides her hands over the easel. "I'm sorry. I had a sort of rough night."

“Oh.”

“It’s mostly yours you know.” She turns away from the bookshelf she had been browsing. “You just had a way of commanding space. You’d be studying on the bed, papers everywhere, books and pencils scattered everywhere that would jab me in the side in the middle of the night. And I just had to sleep around it. And I was glad to because it meant we were together.”

She wraps her arms around herself again and looks uncomfortable. “I’m sorry-,”

“Y/N.” He says her name softly. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“I had a dream about you.”

“Y/N-,”

She shakes her head and walks back across the room until she’s standing between his knees. Bucky stares up at her, wishing that she would reach out and touch him. “I found the letters and photos they took off my wall and I read them. And I didn’t tell Sam that I did. And then I cried and fell asleep. And I went looking because he told me something I didn't know yet.”

His throat closes. To think that they had spent their nights the same way but apart from each other. “Because I loved you so much. I cried because of how much I loved you.”

 _Loved_. As in the past. There’s a tightness in his chest that chokes him. “I still love you.”

“But I don’t know you.”

“We can know each other again.”

“Sam told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That we fought. That our relationship isn’t what you make it out to be.”

He shakes his head, “They don’t understand. They weren’t a part of it. There was a lot of miscommunication and misplaced anger on my part and-,”

“But I asked you to tell me the truth.”

“I _am_.”

She reaches out and grazes her fingers along his cheek. “I dreamed that I woke up next to you and I kissed you. It felt so real. I think it was. And I think I miss your short hair.” His breath catches. She makes him breathless.

Y/N leans down and presses her forehead to his. “But please tell me the truth. Don't omit anything. Don't spare me.”

Bucky closes his eyes and nods against her. She pulls away and presses a kiss to the bridge of his nose. And that’s how he knows that something has come back to her. About them, about everything. But he doesn’t ask because he knows it’s supposed to be silent, she knows he’ll get it and that he’ll leave her be.


	6. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!

In her dreams Bucky follows the patterns of the person the real Bucky seems to be. He's kind and sweet and in love. Good and strong and protective. 

But sometimes, sometimes memories creep in. Memories of anger and yelling. Of fear. But somehow she can never see his face. And so she doesn't know if it's him or someone else. She doesn't know if it’s real or just a dream. Because she doesn’t want to believe that this person could inspire those feelings in her. She’s come to care for him.

A couple weeks have passed in which Y/N runs the gym and talks to prospective members in her father's old office and Sam watches over her shoulder. Bucky comes by every day, at one point or another, and they talk before he goes about beating in a punching bag. Sometimes she'll watch him, if it’s after hours. It feels familiar and good. She likes the way his muscles move, the smooth fluidity of it mesmerizing. And somehow she finds herself wanting to draw. 

"Did I draw you often?"

He pauses in his punching and turns, breaths coming a little hard. Sweat drips down his forehead and a few strands of long hair have come loose from his bun. "All the time. The only thing you liked to draw better was nature, especially birds and trees." Y/N nods and puts her pencil back to paper. The soft, calming sound of graphite tracing across paper echoes through the room. Her sketchpad is balanced on her knees as she sits in a chair near to where Bucky trains. 

But he doesn't go back to punching and she looks up. "You okay?"

"Fine." His eyes are soft. "More than fine."

She looks back down, keeps sketching, as a blush coats her cheeks. Her own artwork amazes her, her hand somehow remembering something that her brain didn't. It felt like someone else's hand creating because _she_ doesn't know how. She doesn't know how to draw and yet...

"I have two questions for you."

"Okay." He hits the bag lightly with one fist and then starts to unwrap his hands, plopping down on the floor in front of her chair. 

She keeps drawing, tilting her head to the side as she concentrates. "I keep dreaming of a place. I like it there. Until I don't."

"What do you mean, babydoll?"

"I mean...It's nice. The light is nice and soft and everything is calm and I feel safe. It's outside and there are trees and a creek. But then...it gets dark and I realize I can't hear the birds anymore or the creek and there's a shadow at the edge of the tree line, watching me. And then I feel exposed and alone. And-,"

The sharp tip of her pencil snaps against the paper. She looks down at Bucky who looks stricken. "It's a real place isn't it?"

He nods and she opens her mouth to ask something else, a million questions running through her mind, when he cuts her off. "Please don't ask me to tell you about it. I will and I'll tell you the truth but not-not yet."

"Okay." Her voice is a low murmur. The urge to take his hand and soothe his anxiety is overwhelming and so she sits on her own to stop from reaching out. "Okay."

“What’s your other question?” Her resolve to keep her hands under her thighs only lasts a few seconds as she watches his chest rise and fall, the dampness of his flushed skin, the bright blue eyes with tired circles beneath them.

She sets aside her sketchpad and now useless pencil, before leaning forward, elbows braced on her knees, head in her hands. For a moment she just watches Bucky finish unwrapping his hands before he starts to stretch. “It’s more of an opinion question.”

“Shoot.”

“What do you think about using your senses to help remember things?”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, just winces as he stretches his left arm, the joints popping excruciatingly. Something in her cracks at the pained expression on his face. Y/N stands and moves to sit on the floor behind him, carefully beginning to massage his shoulders. It feels familiar and she knows it’s something she used to do often. For a moment Y/N wonders how Bucky is even coping when clearly they used to rely on each other so much for comfort and tenderness. “What do I think about it?” His voice is blissful, happy as she continues rubbing his back. It feels good to be touching him, she wants to wrap her arms around him. “I don’t know. Why do you ask? Is one sense-,”

“I don’t know. I just think that stimulation and variation helps. Like Sam made spaghetti last night and when I got a whiff…I remembered something. Or like when I looked at you for the first time I remembered something.”

Bucky leans into her hands, “What did you remember when you looked at me?”

“It doesn’t matter-,”

A desperate edge comes into his voice, “Please? You remembered something real about me. Something I didn’t have to tell you.”

“I only remembered you holding my hand, leading me somewhere. It was sunny and warm. You were smiling and young.”

He seems satisfied and nods, a slight smile on his face. “So what are you asking me?” He pauses. “You want me to…I don’t know...trigger you?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Sam makes spaghetti for special occasions.”

“Yes,” she agrees, massaging a knot in his shoulder.

“So…”

She takes her hands away from his back. Bucky’s shirt is drenched in sweat and yet she hadn’t been disgusted by it. In fact she sort of wants to lean forward and press her forehead to his back, breathe in the scent of him, pluck that shirt off of him and taste his skin.

Y/N jerks back and stands. “Uh,” suddenly nervous fingers start tapping against her thigh. “I, uh, Natasha and Wanda came to visit.”

“Oh.” His voice is hard at the mention of the pair, turning to look up at her.  

“You don’t like them?” She carefully avoids looking at him, fighting the desire threatening her.

Bucky stands slowly, Y/N taking a few steps back just to be safe. Just to keep herself from reaching out and trying to touch him again for purely selfish reasons. “I like Wanda. Natasha and I…she’s always, in my opinion, poked around where she has no business poking around.”

Y/N looks at him carefully, at the set of his brows and the slope of his nose, his sharp jawline and pouty lips. Handsome features all carefully arranged into a hard expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she spies and meddles.” He sighs, “She’s your friend though. And she’s a good one.”

“Did something happen between the two of you?” He doesn’t answer right away, instead stares at the floor. “You said you would-,”

He reaches out and silently asks for her hand. Hers go inside his, fingers tightening around hers almost painfully. “-tell you the truth. And I am. Yes. Something happened between us once. Only once.”

She frowns and takes her hand away from his. “But…you said we’ve been together since we were fifteen. It had to have happened forever ago. So why would it matter?”

His mouth opens and closes a few time but nothing comes out as Y/N’s heart pounds and she starts to panic. Because he lied. She can see it in his eyes. “Y/N,” he says carefully, keeping a firm grip on her hand as she tries to pull away. “Listen. I didn’t. I didn’t lie.”

“Okay.”

“I…W-we kissed, me and you, when we were fifteen but then we got scared. And nothing else happened for a while and so…Natasha-,”

“You don’t have to say anything else.” She isn’t upset with him but she does feel sort of tired, sort of exhausted with how little she remembers. Instead she just picks up her notebook and pencil and walks away. “Gotta lock up,” she says as she grabs her purse.

He follows her, grabbing his gym bag from the floor and wincing all the way out of the building. They’re the only two left and so he waits for her to lock the gym so he can walk her home. “Are you upset?” Bucky asks, sounding very apprehensive.

She gives him a funny look, “Why would I be upset?”

“I just…I mean-,”

“Had I been upset the first time it happened?”

His voice suddenly goes into a hard growl. “No. Not about Natasha at least.”

“I sense a story behind that anger.” Even though his anger scares her, she makes her voice lofty and inquisitive.

For a while it’s quiet as they walk down the deserted street together but she doesn’t push. Really, with his mood darkened for the moment, she doesn’t _want_ to push. “You started dating someone else because of a rumor someone started about me.”

Y/N frowns. If he was her best friend, wouldn’t she have asked him about the rumor? She asks him as much but he shakes his head and refuses to look at her. “Well then who was it?”

“Who was who?”

“The person I dated.” He stops and breathes hard. He closes his eyes. “Bucky?” They’re outside of her building now.

He shakes his head, anger radiating from him, and Y/N takes a few steps back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

But something in her rises up. That old fire that had been choked out when she forgot everything. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because he hurt you, Y/N!” He shouts suddenly. “He fucking hurt you okay? And I don’t want to think about it.”

Her heart feels like it might be beating out of her chest as she starts scrambling for her keys in her bag. “I, uh, keys. I, um. Goodnight I guess.” Everything feels tight and constricting, and the feeling of a scream about to tear out of her throat is rising in her. Because she can feel a memory about to come upon her and she doesn’t want that here, now. In front of him. Finally locating the keys she turns toward her building and shakily tries to open the door. It doesn’t go well.

He’s calling her, saying her name gently and apologizing, when he touches her shoulder. She jumps and yelps, practically falling in the now open door before she slams it shut and runs up the steps to their apartment. Sam had a date and so the apartment is empty. It takes her a few minutes to open that door as well, frustration and fear clouding everything she does, making everything hard.

She only barely makes it to the couch, tears on her cheeks.

 

~

 

“Doll?”

Y/N looks up from her notebook where she’s sitting on her bed writing, and gasps. He’s got bruises on his jaw and cheekbones. “Bucky!” She darts across the room and pulls him into her room, closing and locking the door firmly behind him. “You’re lucky dad isn’t her to see you!”

Heavily he sits on her bed. “I’m sorry.”

She stands in front of him and presses her hands to either side of his face. “What have they done to you now?” He doesn’t answer. “Please, Buck, let me help you. You don’t have to stay with your parents. You can live here.”

Shaking his head he pulls away from her hands and tilts to the side on her bed. “No. I can handle it.”

“There’s no ‘handling it’ Buck! They hit you! They-,” she’s cut off when he pulls her down next to him on the bed to lie with him.

Bucky buries his face into her neck. “Shhh, don’t worry about it.”

“Bucky-,”

“I’m sorry I kissed you.” Her breath catches and her heart shatters. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.” She shushes him and presses her hands into his hair. “I…what…fucking Stark said wasn’t true. I would never do that to you.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders. “I didn’t kiss you on a dare. This has been the worst week of my life, being away from you. And now I hear you finally agreed to go out with _Rumlow_.”

She shakes her head and tries to pull away from him. “Just go if you’re going to-,”

“No, no, god, Y/N please. Just lie with me for a second. Please.”

When he kisses her hair she pulls away and sits up, unable to handle affection from him at the moment. His face falls, hurt flooding his features. “The only reason I believed that rumor was because you didn’t speak to me after. You ran away. And I was left alone. And then I hear about this dare and...What was I supposed to think? And now you’re _sorry_ it happened? _Sorry_ you kissed me?” Her voice is small and wounded. She turns away. “You broke my heart. You acted like nothing happened the next day at school and I thought-,” she stops and bites her lip.

“Y/N please…”

“You can stay here if you need to but I don’t want to see you.” She stands and pushes his hands away when he tries to reach out to her. “So you stay here in my room and rest because I don't want you to have to go home to them and I’ll be in the living room. Stay as long as you want and-,”

He sits up, his skin pale and ashen, “It doesn’t have to be like this. I was afraid and-,”

She backs away. “Take as long as you need Buck.” Her voice cracks horribly.

“Babydoll-,” she spins around and rushes out of her room.


	7. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Let me know what you think!!!

Bucky is walking to school, head down, shoulders shivering, along the icy road. He’s nearly there, only a few more minutes of walking ahead of him, when he hears shouting behind him. A feeling of dread courses through him and he tugs the thin hood over his head lower.

Its cold, freezing in fact. But the thin, threadbare jacket was the only thing he could find that morning before he bolted out the door. He shivers harder as a fierce wind slices right through the material.

Blood is caked across his ice cold knuckles. If he can just make it to the school he can clean up and make it to class and no one will be the wiser about what transpired at breakfast that morning. The shouting gets closer and closer and closer until it rushes past, two people pushing by on either side of him, each shoving on either arm. He slips on the ice, his back smacking roughly into the ice.

For a moment he just lies there, staring at the ice white sky. Tears prick his eyes. God, could his day get any worse?

“Go on without me guys!”

_Y/N._

He squeezes his eyes shut. Even better. She gets to see him dirty and injured, lying on the cold ground.

“Hey, c’mon Y/L/N! Barnes’ll be fine. He’s a big boy.” Bucky doesn't move, keeps his eyes closed, and stays on the ground. It’s Rumlow and Wilson. They had been racing with Y/N to school as they often did. Only Y/N had slowed when she saw Bucky.

The dull crunch of ice sounds, coming closer. He can only hope it isn’t one of the boys. “I’ll see you guys at school. Go on ahead!”

“Whatever! See you at lunch!” They start running again, their footsteps fading.

He opens his eyes as Y/N leans over him. Her face takes up his entire view, the sky making a depressing background. She smiles sadly, tilting her head to the side, “Hey Buck.”

“Hey doll.” His voice is rough and heavy. She reaches out one hand to him which he takes and lets her pull him up.

“Rough morning?” He's shaking hard now, teeth chattering, and concern creeps in her eyes.

“You could say that.” He answers as she takes in his black eye and bloody hands. The skin of his throat and collarbones is mottled yellow and green. “Rough weekend more like.”

Gently she pulls his hood back and brushes the ice away from his dirty clothes. She laces her fingers with his. “Let’s ditch Buck.”

“What?”

“Yeah! C’mon, dad’s went away with one of the athletes to a competition for the week. I’m staying with Sam but I still have the key to our apartment.” She smiles and tugs his hand. “We can make hot chocolate and build a blanket fort and no one can tell us we’re too young for those scary movies dad keeps hidden in the closet. Aaaannnnddd we can prank Ms. Milson. She’s got a new cat. Besides you need to get warmed up properly.”

He shakes his head. “But your perfect attendance. Your goal was to finish sixth grade without-,”

“So?” She smiles. “I’m freakin’ twelve years old, I’ve got forever to be perfect. I tried being a good kid and I lasted ‘til December so let’s go!”

He thinks she’s already perfect. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She bounces on her toes and smiles widely at him. “C’mon! Pleassseeeeeee-,”

“Okay, okay, okay!” He knows she wanted to go all year without missing a day. He knows she has a bet with Stark and Rhodes about it. He knows she’ll get shit about messing it up. He still lets her pull him in the opposite direction of the school.

When they get to her apartment, dingdong ditching on every floor on the way up, she steers him into the bathroom. “You look awful. No one that is filthy is allowed in my blanket fort.”

“Y/N…I, uh,” he bites his chapped, bloody lip. “I don’t have any other clothes with me and these are dirty. You don’t need to-,” he starts ashamedly, an embarrassed blush coating his cold cheeks.

She shakes her head. “My cousin was here a few weeks ago remember? He left some of his stuff. You can wear it.”

Silence falls between them for a second. “Thanks doll.”

“Where’s Stevie? Isn’t he supposed to check up on you on the weekends? I was wondering why you never made it to the gym. Paul was worried about you and daddy too-,”

Bucky shakes his head, “He, uh, he’s sick again.”

“Bucky…” she whispers. “Please let me tell somebody-,”

“No! Y/N, no! You promised me, you-,”

She pats his arm, but looks like she might cry. “Okay. I know, I know. Then I’ll go get the clothes and you’ll not fuss about it or make a scene when I clean up your hands and face. Got it?”

He swallows back tears. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

 

~

 

When he’s showered and cleaned up and in clean clothes they build a blanket fort in the living room and turn up the heat in the apartment until they know they’ll get in trouble for doing it.

“Dad’s got a sixth sense when it comes to the thermostat,” Y/N says as she settles next to him in their dark nest. “How are you feeling?” She asks, handing him a mug of hot chocolate.

He takes a sip and lets Y/N lean into his shoulder. “A lot better.”

“Good. School sucks anyways.”

“You love school.” Bucky says leaning back into Y/N.

She shrugs. “That’s true. I do.” She snuggles further into him and he only feels better, more loved, warmer. Something he never feels at home but always feels with Y/N. “But it kinda sucks when you aren’t there. No one to go to the Principal’s office with. Brock makes it worse, Tony talks too much, Sam and Steve never get caught.”

For a while they just sip their chocolate and stay quiet. He closes his eyes and tries to absorb the silence and peace as best he can, and his time alone with one of his favorite people.

Between the heat of the apartment and Y/N’s warm weight against his side, and her hand in his he actually starts to feel sleepy and safe. She sits aside their cups eventually and scrunches down with him on the soft blankets layered on the floor. “You’re okay here.”

“I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“I know.”

“And I love you a lot and I’ll always be here to help you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, his throat too tight. “I know.”

“Good.”

They nap for so long that Sam’s father Paul comes looking for them. School was let out hours ago and even though they usually took their sweet time about getting home, causing trouble in some other part of the small city, it was longer than usual today.

When Paul opens the front door, the blanket fort is partially disassembled and Y/N is sitting on the couch drawing, Bucky on the other end, which Paul assumes is a still sleeping Bucky.

“Y/N did you two go to school today?”

“He had a rough weekend.”

“Don’t let it become a habit.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turns down the heat and leaves, calling out something about dinner being at seven at his place down the street. "Where you should be," he mentions before the door snaps shut.

“Is he gone?” Bucky asks. She nods. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Come here.” He turns on the couch and they squish together so tightly it’s almost uncomfortable. “You can stay here. You can always stay here. I know dad wouldn’t mind.”

He starts to push away from her, panic rising up his throat. “You didn’t tell him did you?!”

“No,” she grabs his hand and twists their fingers together. “No, no, no. I want to but I won’t because I promised. But dad loves you too and he wouldn’t have a problem with it. Okay?” She wiggles against him, bringing them closer, and making Bucky feel just a bit better, his heart rate slowing.

He nods against her cheek. “Okay.”

“Wanna look at my sketches? I don’t think they’re very good yet but I’m working on it.”

“I’m sure they’re beautiful, doll.” He murmurs as he takes the sketchbook from her.

He goes through the book slowly, telling her everything he loves about each drawing. But when they finish his hands start to shake because he knows that their moment of peace is coming to an end and he’ll have to go back home, at least for the night. But she covers his hands and asks if he’s hungry. “We’ll stay here, me and you. I can make chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese from the box. Paul’ll understand.”

Bucky thinks they’re probably going to get hell from Paul tomorrow and a lecture from her father when he gets back but he still agrees. But he hates his home and he loves Y/N. So, he smiles in relief and helps her make their dinner.

They sleep together in her bed that night and go to school together the next morning after stopping by Steve’s to see if he’s feeling any better. He likes living with her, walking to school with her.

Everything is good and safe with her. And the best part is that he knows she feels the same. He doesn’t feel like a burden because he would do anything for her and vice versa.

And that in itself is comforting because Bucky knows it’s something that’ll never change.


	8. Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is sorta shorter! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

Y/N is sleeping when Bucky comes home. Their bedroom window is open and city noises drift in, making a soothing lullaby.

For a moment he just watches her from the doorway. Regret already fills his heart at what had transpired after his match. She had had a final in English or she would have been there. And if she had been there he would have had an excuse to not go.

He shouldn’t have gotten into underground fighting, especially not with someone like Rumlow. But now he’s sort of stuck. Because his fame is rising not just in boxing, but in the underground as well. And, well, one sort of affected the other as he’s coming to find out.

He’s lucky Steve and Peggy are away for the weekend or he surely would have been caught sneaking in well after he should have been home. All he wants to do is lie down with her, feel her skin against his. But then Rumlow’s words echo through his mind. The things he had said about her, the things he had claimed he had done to her…makes him kick off his shoes and drop his bag to the floor. He doesn’t shut the door.

The street light flooding the room let’s Bucky see that Y/N isn’t wearing his shirt tonight, which only makes his stomach clench. Instead she’s wearing a camisole and panties. He sits down on the bed and touches her hip, drawing soft circles there until she starts to stir. “Baby,” her voice is a soft purr as she turns to lie on her back. Then she gasps and sits bolt upright. “What happened to you?!”

Sweat is still dripping down his brow, mixing with blood running from cuts, slicing through the bruises and scratches. His hair is damp with sweat and his whole body aches. “I can’t tell you.”

“What? Why not?”

“I just…can’t. Not right now. I-,” he swallows hard and meets her stunned eyes. _Guilty, guilty, guilty._ He stands and shoves the books and paper and colored pencils lying haphazardly on the bed to the ground. Art and school supplies clatter onto the floor alike. Guilt and regret hits him again and he takes a step back. Because those are Y/N’s things, things that are precious to her, important and-

“I need you right now.” He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. “I’m desperate, baby, please.” Needs to feel her against him, around him, to taste her and worship her.

For a moment she doesn’t move or say anything, shock written on her face. But then she stands and pulls him into a tender kiss. His hands go to her hips and hers go to cradle his jaw, before they slide down his chest, raking over the sweat slicked muscles. “What’s wrong, Buck?” Kisses are pressed along his jaw, soft and reassuring.

“I need to know you’re mine.” 

She frowns against him and pulls back, her thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones. “You already know that.” Fear runs up his spine unexpectedly, the thought that someone _could_ take her away frightening him terribly. “Hey, Buck? Honey?” Bucky meets her eyes. “I’m yours. Now what happened?”

Instead of answering her he kisses her. It’s sloppy and rough and needy. But she lets him lead, lets him push her down onto the bed, cover her body with his. She lets him kiss her hard and bruise her mouth and neck. Y/N lets him strip her of her clothes and taste every inch of her body.

It doesn’t last long but they hold each other afterwards and Bucky feels better, safer, almost good.

“Tell me.”

“I-,”

“No.” Her voice is stern. “You tell me right now, James. You can’t just come in here and say those things and then not explain it and fuck me and expect me to lie down and say nothing.” She tugs on his hair hard making him yelp. “You are not allowed to do that to me.”

Half lying on top of her he keeps his face pressed into her neck, slides one hand up and down her side. “I know.”

“Then _tell_ me.”

Bucky peppers kisses to her throat and down to her chest. “You…I…I’ve been keeping something from you.” He pulls back to look into her eyes and sees the fear there. “Baby…I’ve been, uh, fighting. Fighting, not exactly under legal terms. Underground and um-,”

“What? Why?”

“For money. To get better. Rumlow asked me-,”

“Rumlow?!” She shoves him away. “Are you kidding me?”

“Baby-,” She stands and grabs a shirt from the floor. Bucky sits up and watches her pull on some sweatpants. “Don’t do this.”

“Fuck you.” She stops. “I told you he hurt me!”

Anger threads through him, “You never told me what he did!” She finches and grits her teeth hard, breathing shallow. He knows she hates it when he yells, that it scares her badly.

“Why the fuck does it matter?! If someone says that they’ve been hurt, then it hurts, they've been _hurt!_ You don’t get to decide, because you don’t know exactly what-,” she doesn’t finish, only spins on her heel and stalks out of the room. 

He follows her to the kitchen after jerking up a pair of sweats. “Hey! Then tell me. Talk to me.” As soon as it's out of his mouth dread fills him. He would never make her tell him-

Y/N turns to fix him with a look, both disbelieving and like she doesn't know him at all. “Gonna force it out of me then? This is my ultimatum?”

“No. Y/N, I-,”

“He screamed at me. He made me feel worthless. I am afraid of him. I’ve never gotten over it.”

Bucky stares back at her as her shoulders start to shake. “Sweetheart-,” He starts forward.

“Don’t touch me.” She takes a few steps back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Don’t touch me.”

 

~

 

Y/N bolts up in bed, coughing and gasping for breath. In the living room of her apartment, on the way to the kitchen to get water, she almost screams.

Because she forgot that Bucky was sleeping on her couch.

She stumbles into the table in the kitchen table, making it scrape against the floor, effectively waking Bucky up. “Doll?”

“H-hey, I, uh, couldn’t sleep and-,”

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, dream and….uh, it’s okay.”      

They’d been spending a lot of time together, doing normal things and not talking so much about the past and what Y/N doesn’t know. Mostly they’d been watching movies and listening to music and talking. Now she trips away from him and her feelings, panic swimming in her lungs. “Y/N?” He stands. “What’s wrong?”

“Who’s Rumlow?”

He freezes. “How do you-,”

“I had a dream.” Anxiety steals into her voice and she backs away. “And he was mentioned and I was afraid of him but you yelled at me and I was…I was a little afraid of you…that’s why I left my bedroom in the dream and I….”

“What’re you talking about, babydoll?” Confusion and fear creep into his voice.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Leave…leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about it. L-leave me alone.” She turns her back to a wide-eyed Bucky trying to hold back tears and feeling stupid and emotional besides. " _Please leave._ "


	9. Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short! I hope you guys like it! The next one is going to be long. 
> 
> Let me know what you think and thanks for reading! <3

Bucky stands there in the kitchen, Y/N trembling in the corner, her back turned to him as she grips the counter with shaky hands. He could leave it like he usually does, turn around and walk back to the couch, sit there quietly and give her space.

But something makes him stay in place this time. “Y/N.” He walks forward and touches her shoulder. “Doll, you gotta talk to me. Don’t shut me out. It could have been just a dream. You have to let me help you.”

“But he’s bad right?” Her voice is small and afraid and it breaks his heart. Before he can answer she suddenly spins and falls into his arms, wrapping her arms securely around his middle. She presses her face into his right shoulder and lets out an exhausted sigh.

It’s the first time she’s let him this close since the accident…since _before_ the accident. He hugs her back tightly, carefully kissing the side of her head. It feels _right_. She lets out a surprised but content noise before sinking further into his arms.

“I’m not afraid of you. I'm sorry I said that.”

“Okay, babydoll.”

“You feel different.”

He jolts, because she remember what it felt like to hug him, be near him. “I lost a lot of muscle mass, a lot of weight.” Maybe there’s something to her theory about different senses helping to bring back memories.

“And you’re skinny.” She pauses and sniffles. “You used to be bigger.” Y/N sounds amazed, like she can’t quite believe that she’s remembered something. Her fingers dig tightly into the flesh of his back.

He huffs out a soft laugh. “Thanks.”

Quiet. Even the city is silent out the open windows.

“I want to talk about it.” She swallows. “About why I was afraid. About why I _am_ afraid of yelling and loud noises.”

“Okay.” Bucky presses his nose into Y/N’s hair. “Okay, sweetheart.”

She doesn’t let go of him, and Bucky doesn’t pull away. “Bucky?”

“What?”

Carefully nestling further into his arms she asks, “Will you come lay with me? Sleep with me?”

Hope is swelling in his chest. Maybe this is a turning point for them. “Y-yeah. Yes. Of course I will.” But she doesn’t move, only keeps her face pressed into his neck. So he lets them stand there together for a while before he guides her to the bedroom.

They lie down and Bucky holds her to his chest. She cries but he doesn’t mention it, only strokes her hair and shushes her gently. It feels so familiar and good that he wants to cry. He’s missed her so much that it hurt.

And now. Hope.

“I m-miss y-you so _much_.” She wails digging her fingers into his shirt. No, he thinks, there’s _definitely_ something to the senses thing.

“I’m right here, doll.”

It only makes her cry harder and the only thing he can do is hold her until she falls asleep, completely exhausted.

 

~ 

 

A few hours later he wakes to find Y/N tracing her fingers over his chest, floating up to his throat every so often. “Hey, baby.”

“Sorry I cried all over you.”

He tightens his arm over her back and rolls onto his side. “I don’t mind. I’m just glad you’re close to me.” Bucky tries to look into her eyes but she avoids his gaze. The grip he has on her hips starts to falter, his hand sliding away. “Is this okay? Am I-,”

Y/N grabs his hand and pushes it back over her waist. “I like it.”

A smile overcomes his face. “That’s really good to hear.”

“But I need to know. About him. About you.” She pauses. “We weren’t together for long were we?”

“Me and you?” He asks, confused. “No…no. We were together for years-,”

She shakes her head and nuzzles closer until her nose is pressed into the base of his throat. “No, I know. I know. I mean me and um,” she swallows thickly and seems not to want to say his name. “Um, him.”

“No,” he cautiously kisses her hair. “No, Y/N, only a couple of weeks.”

A moment of silence passes when she whispers, “Do that again, baby.”

She called him baby, she wants him close. His heart hammers against his ribs as he brings his mouth down on the crown of her head. “You like that, doll?” He murmurs against her hair.

“Again.”

For a third time he kisses her head. A deep sigh leaves her. “I think I love you.”

“What?” He pulls back to look her in the eyes. “What did you say?”

She struggles back into his arms and then kisses him on the collarbone. “I said I think I love you. You’re so kind and good to me. Patient and loving, even when I try to push you away. And I think you’re good and protective and so sweet and I don’t know what you did but maybe it was a mistake.” Her breaths are coming in short pants now, warm and soft against his throat. “But I think maybe we could try." Her lips brush against the rough, delicate skin of his throat with every work she speaks. "I think I should let us try because you seem willing to wait forever.”

He lifts her chin so he can see her eyes. “I don’t want you to have to wait forever.” She whispers.

“Can I kiss you?” It’s wrong. He shouldn’t. She doesn’t know who she is. But she’s come to know him and she thinks she might love him.

She only hesitates a second. “Yeah.” Y/N leans up. “Do it.”

He kisses her top lip very gently. And then her bottom lip before he kisses her full on the mouth. Guilt swells in his stomach as her tongue slips past his lips and their mouths turn desperate. He pulls back with a gasp before he loses the courage to tell her, before reason reigns him in again.

“It was him.”

“What?”

“He was hurting you. After you were together. That’s why I was so mad. You didn’t tell me. He was threatening me through you. You were protecting me and he was hurting you to keep you quiet and I wasn’t protecting you like I promised to. And I’m sorry. God, I am so sorry.” Bucky presses his forehead to hers and closes his eyes.

Y/N pulls back and stares at him. “What are you talking about?"


	10. The Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be fluffy I promise.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! I love you guys! <3

"What do you mean?"

She wants to squirm away from him. Bucky can already feel her pushing against his chest, trying to get away from him. He grips her tighter, "Please let me explain."

"Then start explaining!" Y/N's voice has already risen to a hysterical level. "Go on! Explain it to me!"

"Okay," he strokes her hair and doesn't let go. "C'mon baby, stop fighting me huh? Let me explain."

Y/N stops wriggling in his arms and gives an exhausted sigh, choosing instead to lie still and enjoy the warmth his body provided. Familiarity floods her again. "Just tell me."

He swallows harshly, "I don't want to lie to you, babydoll."

"Then don't." Her voice is harsh. 

And so he does one of the hardest things he’s ever done and let’s go of her. He sits back against her headboard and swallows hard. “It’s true that it’s all my fault.” She sits up and scoots to the end of the bed, crossing her legs as she faces him. “And if you think you love me then you should know the truth.”

“Okay,” her voice is soft, carefully controlled. “So you were hurting me.”

“No! God, no, never.”

Should he tell her? What if she never remembered? What if she pushed him away for good? He is, after all, the only one that knew the full story. And Sam and Steve seemed to think he’s lying about everything.

“Y/N…”

She shakes her head and starts to get up. “If you’re just going to make shit up-,”

“I’m not. Y/N, I’m not.” He starts to plead, jaw clenching. “I'm going to tell you the truth.”

“Tell me!” She steps forward, finger pointed accusingly at him. “Right now! Stop being confusing.” Her fingers fly to her head, clutching desperately as her eyes flutter closed. “Make it make sense,” she whispers, sounding almost in pain.

He stands cautiously. “Y/N…babydoll are you okay?”

Y/N lurches forward suddenly and grips his shirt. Tear-filled eyes meet his, “ _Please_?”

“Okay.” Bucky takes her hand and guides her back to the bed. “But I need you to listen okay? I need you to hear me.”

She nods and takes a tissue that he offers her.

 

~

 

“Bucky?”

He could roll his eyes at the way her voice sounds small and vulnerable. Sweat drips down his sides and he pretends not to hear her as he continues hitting the punching bag. He really doesn’t want to deal with her at the moment. A hot fire burns in his stomach when he thinks about her, about him, about them.

“Buck…please.” Don’t turn, don’t look, she’ll go away, run back to-

 _“Bucky!”_ He voice is panic-stricken suddenly. “God, please, _look at me!_ I need you! I need my best friend. I know you hate me right now but I need your help. _Please.”_

He stops punching, catching the swaying bag in his hands, and turns very slowly. Because he might be mad but he’ll never hate her, and she has to know that. But, when he turns any anger he might have felt toward her flies out of his head. “ _Y/N_?”

In a second he’s in front of her, a hand on either side of her face, “Who did this to you?” She's bruised black and blue, her face and arms, some bruises trailing into the collar of her shirt.

“You know who.” Her voice cracks on the last word. 

“I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him! Where is he? Don’t you dare protect him Y/N-,”

She shakes her head, “I’m not protecting him. I’m protecting you.”

“How-?”

Y/N shakes her head and Bucky pulls her into a tight hug, loosening his grip when she winces. “It’s a setup. You’re getting in the way of his career. I’m supposed to walk in here and tell you it was someone else. And their location. But really it will be Brock and a few others waiting for you.” She puts a hand on his face. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

He stares at her and then takes her hand away from his face, walking her toward the gym's bathroom. “Is this the first time it's happened?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not.” She hugs him suddenly. “I couldn’t let that happen to you no matter much you hated me.”

Bucky keeps a tight grip on her, “I don’t hate you.”

“Bucky,” she whispers into her shoulder, wiping her tears onto his shirt, “I love you. I love you. More than I’m supposed to as your best friend.”

He pulls back, “I love you too.”

Her bottom lip trembles as she glances away, “Don’t do this right now, don't fuck with me like that, I can’t handle it-,” His mouth lands on hers and although it’s tearful and painful it’s the best kiss of his life. In that moment he hopes to never have to kiss another person ever again.

“I love you. I mean that. And no one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise.” He says, his forehead resting against hers.

 

~

 

“So?” She challenges. “I already knew he was hurting me.” But he can tell she’s shaken, that something is itching at her brain now.

“So, we were fighting not only about Brock, but about you. The week before that happened…you finally caved and told Paul that my parents were abusing me. And I resented you for breaking our promise even though I wasn’t being hurt anymore.” She opens her mouth but he keeps going. “And later that night when your dad found out that someone had been hitting you…I was the first person everyone looked at. I…had an anger streak a mile wide and…everyone thought...what with the circle of domestic violence and all that.”

He pauses and swallows uncomfortably, “I had been abused and so now I was the abuser.” He looks up to meet her eyes, “It still cuts me to the very core to think anyone could think I would ever hurt you.”

For a moment Y/N doesn’t say anything. Then quietly, still staring at the floor, “Go on then.”

His heart thuds painfully, and no reassurance comes that she knows he would never do such a thing.

 

~

 

His mouth is hot on Y/N’s, pressing closer and closer, until his hands starts to wander beneath her shirt.

A loud gasp escapes her and she pushes his hands away. “Stop.”

Bucky sits back and sighs heavily. “Did I do something wrong?”

Something like a fearful tremble runs up her back. “No,” She whispers, wrapping her arms around her middle. “No, no.”

“Then what is it Y/N?” Bucky asks, attempting to get her to look him in the eyes. “Because we went from having sex a couple times a day to not at all.” A quiet sadness creeps into his voice. “So what is it? Why do you cringe every time I touch you?”

She won’t look at him. “I just don’t want to.”

“You have to talk to me! If I did something-,”

“I just don’t want you!” She screams, whipping viciously around to glare at him. “I don’t want you touching me, or looking at me.”

He grits his teeth, his arm is throbbing painfully, “Is it because of my arm?”

“What?”

“You heard me, Y/N!” His fists clench open and closed, disbelieving that Y/N could be that shallow, especially toward him. “Is it because you can’t stand to look at me because of what your old boyfriend did to me?”

She doesn’t seem angry, only shakes her head and turns away. “If you could think something like that about me then you don’t know me at all.”

His heart drops into his stomach because she only sounds disappointed and hurt.

~

 

Y/N doesn’t say anything for a moment and Bucky lets her process, hopes that something will come back, that she’ll remember and he won’t have to tell the whole horrible thing.

“What happened to your arm?” She asks softly, reaching out for his hand. Bucky lets her take his hand, cradle it within her own and trace her fingers up the scarred flesh of his arm. “Or was I really that shallow?”

“I thought you deserved better than a broken man. Not just because of my arm.” He swallows dryly and meets her eyes. “It wasn’t because of my arm.” It takes him a few moments to build his confidence up before he can speak. “I, uh, was burned. After a match. It was Rumlow…we could just never prove it. I was out of the game for a while after that and when I was finally healed…you wouldn’t let me touch you and I assumed…”

He blinks hard and changes tactics, “It was during my time in the hospital that he got to you. When we found out that with therapy and training, I could be as good as I was before. I could still rise to the top. And so he got to you. You were what he really wanted after all. He was sabotaging matches after that and hitting you to keep you quiet about it. He said if you didn’t say anything…about the matches, about the bruises, then I’d be safe, that he wouldn’t do something worse. And so you did as he said because he had already proven he could and would do something worse.”

His breathing is starting to become a little ragged. “And in all my infinite selfishness I thought you didn’t want me to touch you because I was a little scarred.” He meets her eyes again, “But really you were hiding yourself from me so I wouldn’t know someone was hurting you. You were protecting me, letting someone hurt you so I wouldn’t be hurt.”

She squeezes his hand.

A bitter laugh breaks past his lips, “And _then_ …then I thought you were cheating on me.”

“Cheating on you?” She clutches his hand harder, painfully tight. “ _Cheating on you_?”

He nods and bites his lip, but Y/N moves closer to him, settles herself by his side and encourages him to drape his arm over her shoulders. “How could you think that?” Y/N doesn't think she could ever cheat on anyone, especially not someone who had been nothing but kind to her. 

“It was the only thing that made sense to me.” He presses his nose to her hair. “I convinced myself of it and the longer it went on…the meaner I got, the more we fought. I wouldn’t break it off but I was trying to get you to admit it.” A deep wave of regret hits him. He had been so caught up in his own sticky web of feelings that he had completely missed that someone had been hurting the most important person in his life.

Y/N’s face is nestled into his neck. “Finish the story,” she murmurs, voice trembling.

 

~

 

“Y/N?” Bucky calls out as soon as he enters their apartment. “Doll? Where are you?”

He walks through their vacant apartment to their bedroom to find her at the foot of their bed, standing stalk still, a suitcase open before her. “Y/N?” Bucky walks around to face her, “Where are you going?”

Blood drips from a crack in her lip. They’re bitten raw, her skin is lifeless, and her eyes are glassed over. “I’m moving back into my dad’s. It’s empty and I would have no rent.”

His voice goes hard, “Why?”

“Because I can’t _do_ this anymore.” A sob rips from her throat.

It’s what he’s been waiting for, for weeks and weeks, since he was released from the hospital. He opens his mouth to say something cutting when she whispers, “All we do is fight and scream at each other. And I’m so tired and-,”

“You’ve been cheating on me.”

She stops and lifts her head to meet his eyes fully, “ _What_?” They’re red rimmed now and confused.

“That’s it isn’t it?” He lifts his arms outwards and gives a nonchalant shrug. “It’s why you won’t let me anywhere near you. Not even a hug. We haven’t kissed in two weeks. I can’t even hold your hand without you cringing away from me.” He drops his arms back to his sides. 

Shock is written across her face. “I’m not…I’m-,”

He’s already had a bad day, pissed because he wasn’t being given anymore matches. He’s lost too much weight, lost focus, become volatile and unpredictable in the ring. And now…Y/N is leaving him. “You are. It’s the only goddamn thing that makes sense. God, you’ve been fucking lying to my face this-,”

He shakes his head and turns away, “Whatever, fucking leave then.”

“Bucky,” she reaches out to him. “I’m not. I swear I’m not…I just, I don’t think we’re meant to be together. Not when we make each other miserable.”

His voice breaks when he turns back and steps closer, “Then why do you act like you can’t stand me? Don’t lie to me Y/N.” His voice is so broken that it physically pains her to hear.

Something behind her eyes breaks and she whispers, “I have something to tell you, baby.” His breath catches. He never thought he would hear her say it, say that’s she cheating on him, hates him, can’t stand to be around him anymore. It had been months and she had never hinted at ever admitting it. She takes the hem of her shirt in her hands and slowly lifts it, his eyes widening as she does. 

And then her shirt is gone and her top half is left in nothing but her bra. Her skin is marred with bruises and scratches and cuts, some scarred over, some only days old. His heart seizes because _this can't be happening again_. “This is why I didn’t let you touch me. You’d know.” She lets out a small cry and wraps her arms around her torso. “You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you. To let you comfort me and take care of me and love me but I am so afraid and I told myself I could handle it. Make it go away myself and you would never be the wiser. But I’ve hurt you so badly instead.”

“You’re worried about me being hurt?” He asks in disbelief. Bucky’s eyes are wide with horror, before he recovers and growls out, “ _Who_?”

Her bottom lip trembles before she bites it and whispers, “Rumlow.”

“Why?” He has his arms around her in seconds, and for the first time in months she doesn’t pull away. In fact she falls into his embrace, presses her nose to his collarbone, and lets out a desperately relieved breath. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have-,”

“Because he said he’d hurt you again. Permanently this time.”

“My matches-,”

“Yes. He was…rigging them.”

Bucky grips her tighter, “He’s here isn’t he?”

“Outside.” Her voice is low and terrified.

Thinly veiled anger sits low in his eyes when he pulls away to meet her gaze. “Let’s go.”

“What?” She whispers.

“You think I’m just going to leave you here? Let you do this? God, I’m a fucking idiot. How could I have not known?”

Y/N’s hands go to either side of his face. “I kept it well hidden to keep you safe. You’d have never known if I didn’t tell you. What he did to your arm…I’m afraid he’ll try to kill you.”

Slowly he leans forward to capture her lips with his. Kissing her slowly and with a gentle passion. “Not going to happen. We need to go. But I’m going to have to put on a show. We need him to think-,”

“I know. But promise me you won't tell anyone what's happening. No matter what happens. People can't know. They'll never look at me the same way.”

And stupidly he makes that promise. 

Out in the street he jerks her roughly over to his motorcycle. It’s starting to rain as he offers her a helmet but she shakes her head as his thumb slides over her arm, soothing where he had been gripping her bicep, out of sight of the man in the car across the street.

“ _I don’t love you. I never have. I wish you would stay away from me.”_ He screams at her, one of the windows of an apartment opening above him at the commotion. “C’mon, Y/N,” he says roughly, noting the hurt in her eyes, the wobble of her bottom lip, and the small, caved in look of her shoulders.

Because it sounded like he meant it and after the last few months they weren’t hard words to believe. She gets on the bike, aware that he needs to be somewhere safe just as much as she needs to be. So they could both feel as though they had control over the situation. 

He starts the engine and peels away from the curb and tells himself that she knows he didn’t mean it, that it only sounded true because he needed it to, because he needed Rumlow to hear and believe it. But her grip is light on his waist, the road is wet, and he realizes halfway there that they’re being followed.

And Bucky only understands he’s underestimated Rumlow when he runs them off the road.


	11. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff for you. A little bit of their relationship before. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

Things used to be good, perfect even, between the two of them. One might not believe it, judging from the way things are now, but they used to be _perfect_. Bucky has always loved Y/N dearly and so when she finally reciprocates and they work past the whole Brock Rumlow issue, Bucky treats her like a queen.

And Y/N treats him like she always has: like he’s her whole world. Like he’s the most precious person in the world. Like, most clichély, he had hung the stars and the moon and set the whole damn universe in motion just for her.

So that’s how they ended up there, back in their place among the trees and stars. Their fire is dying down now and the forest is still around them. The only movement is that of a soft breeze and the creak that slips quietly by. Bucky’s back is against a tree trunk, his arms around Y/N who is swaddled in a large blanket. Her eyes are closed and her breaths even and slow. She sits with her head against Bucky’s shoulder and her legs across his lap. The crown of her head just brushes his neck.

A smiles pulls at his lips as he leans down to press a kiss to her mouth. “Wake up, doll.”

She squirms against him, grumbling softly. “No. ‘S nice here. And warm.”

“I know.” He kisses her again and chuckles gently when she tries to follow his lips. A pout works its way onto her face when he gets out of her reach, but she still doesn’t open her eyes. “I know. But I want to show you something. Something special. Haven’t shown anyone, not even _you_.”

“’Kay,” she yawns and snuggles closer to him. “What is it?”

Bucky strokes her hair back from her forehead. “Requires moving, baby.”

“But _baby_ ,” she drags out the word ‘baby’ until Bucky kisses her quiet. “Carry me then.”

“Needy,” he accuses.

Y/N huffs out an annoyed breath, “You love it.” She opens her eyes, and hits him with the full force of her gaze. “You love it and you love me and so you’ll carry me.” A mischievous sparkle is in her eye as she smiles at him.

So, he winks at her and stands, setting her on her feet momentarily so he can grab a flashlight. Bucky sweeps her back up bridal style and starts his trek into the darkness. “Bucky!” She squirms in his arms. “Let me down. I was only joking.”

“Joking about our love?”

She pokes his cheek. “About _your_ love more like.”

“Are you saying you don’t love me?”

“I’m saying I use you for transportation and that now I feel guilty about it.”

A twig snaps under his foot as they continue along, Y/N leaning her head against his shoulder again. “So…you’re saying you like to _ride_ me?”

She giggles and kisses his throat. “Love you, Buck. Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

It’s quiet for approximately two seconds before Y/N asks, “Bucky…you know how to get back to our stuff right?”

“Yes, doll.”

He can feel her eyelashes against his neck. “….Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N.” Then, before she can ask anything else, “We’re almost there and I promise I’m not lost.” And so she stays quiet from that point on, her fingers curling in his shirt.

Just then the tree line comes to an end and they emerge into a small clearing. Bucky clicks the flashlight off as Y/N gasps and looks up. “It’s so clear. Look at all the stars! And look Buck! You can see the city!” Indeed nestled in the valley below is the city they call home. “Oh love….I wanna draw this so bad! I wanna write a play about a-,”

He laughs and sets her back on her feet. “I thought you might like it.” He expects her to move away from him, to discover and let her curiousness take over but she just leans back into his side and makes a small, happy sound in the back of her throat. “C’mere,” Bucky whispers, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to pull her close. “You gotta look around.”

Shuffling her a few feet toward the edge of the clearing seems to get her moving. She glares at him and then allows herself to be guided to the edge of the space. A gasp leaves her, “We’re on a cliff?”

“Mm.” A thin wooden fence is the only thing that separates them from the steep drop.

“Why didn’t you bring me here before?” She asks, childlike wonder in her voice.

He shrugs as Y/N turns and unwraps her blanket from around herself. Instead she grabs the edges and puts her arms around him, sharing her warmth. “Well babydoll, it was mine. But I want to share everything with you, and so here we are.”

Y/N rests her head against his chest, her ear against his heart, listening to the steady thumps. “Too sweet.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, pressing one hand to her jaw. “I love you.” Bucky leans forward and captures her lips. “Let’s lie down here for a while. We have your unnecessarily large blanket with us.”

She hits his chest. “I know what you’re up to, James Barnes.”

“What?” He asks innocently.

“You brought me here to _kanoodle_.” She pokes his chest, a large grin plastered to her face. “You brought me up here, thinking you could romantic me-,”

“ _Romantic_ you?”

“-and give me some good inspiration for my writing and my art-,”

He shrugs and glances around, “Well it is good.”

“-and I would just lie down and let you have your way with me.”

A deep chuckle escapes him as he takes the blanket from her and spreads it over the grass. “Did it work?”

“Yes.” She plops down on the blanket. “C’mere, c’mere, c’mere!”

Bucky dives down on the blanket next to her and pulls her to him, digging his fingers into her sides, making her giggle and wriggle. He flips her onto her back and hovers above her, leaning down to press his mouth over her jaw and neck. “I love you. Do you like it here? Truly?”

Y/N pulls him down and presses her mouth to his. “Yeah. Although you know what?”

“What?”

She grins and rubs her nose against his jaw, “You inspire me more than anything.”

“No.” 

“Yes!” She squeals. “I love drawing you. Such pretty eyes and hair. Nice jaw. Good ass.”

“You draw my ass?”

Y/N pulls him down and wraps her legs around his waist. “No. I _write_ about your ass.” She kisses him again, deeply and fully, her mouth molding against his. “God, Buck. I do love it here.”

He puts his hand on her thigh that’s currently slung over his hip and rubs soothing circles there. “I wish we would have had our first time together here.” Bucky remembers the way the stars reflected in her eyes, that first initial slide into her so fucking good, so tight. He remembers her shuddering breath and the pleasure and pain that has mixed in her features.

He remembers stopping for her, waiting for her to adjust, and then that breathless, heady sigh that had issued from her lips before she gave him the okay to go ahead. Most of all he remembers her taste, so different from Natasha who had pushed him around too much in bed for his liking, yanking his head roughly to where she wanted it, only chasing her pleasure. Y/N’s always been good with him, known not to shove and where not to grip too hard.

“Let me take you now.”

She curls her fingers in his short hair. “I thought you knew what kanoodling was?”

Bucky shushes her and sits back to watch Y/N wriggle out of her pants. Her fingers start toward the waistband of her panties when his hands catch at her wrists. “Bucky-,”

“I love you, babydoll.” He pushes her shirt up and mouths at her stomach, working his way higher until he reaches her breasts. Bucky hooks his fingers in the cups of her bra and tugs downward. Revealed to the nighttime breeze her nipples harden almost immediately as a strange little gasp leaves her. As his warm mouth encompasses one hardened bud, her fingers go to his hair, tugging just enough to be the right side of painful.  

She giggles when he groans against her chest. A dark look is in his eyes when he pulls away, “You know how I feel about getting my hair pulled.”

Her fingers dig in harder before she gives a particularly hard tug. “I know.”

“Killin’ me, woman, you’re killin’ me.” His voice is rough and deep. “C’mere, sweetheart. I wanna taste you.”

A violent shiver runs down her spine as he sits back and yanks down her panties. Y/N scrambles out of her shirt and bra as Bucky stares down at her, her underwear fisted in his hand. “ _Buck_!” She whines. “At least take off your shirt.”

He does as asked, quickly discarding his shirt before lying on his stomach. Soft kisses are littered to the inside of her thighs and her lower stomach. “Give me my underwear.”

“How about we trade?” He murmurs into her knee, as she presses her legs over his shoulders.

“No way, why would I want your old boxers.”

Her breaths are coming hard as he kisses down her thigh. “’m hurt, baby. You don't want my boxers? 'Cause I'm keeping yours.”

Y/N digs her heels into his shoulder blades, trying to get him to move closer. “Bucky, _please_ -,” A small, almost chaste kiss is pressed to her sex. “Goddamn it, James!” Her voice cracks as her hips buck.

“Haven’t even done anything yet,” he murmurs before flattening his tongue and licking a broad stripe up her pussy. “Three,” he says, looking up at her through dark lashes.

Her brow furrows as she pushes her hips toward his face, “What?”

“Three. I’m going to make you come three times with my mouth, baby.”

She’s needy but not so far gone that she can’t sass him. “Oh? And what about you then? Seems like I get to have all the fun.”

A deep growl emanates from him, half surprising both of them at the possessiveness in the noise. He bites her hip in reprimand, “I never said what you have to do with your mouth.”

And his eyes are so dark and lust filled, so hungry and wanting, that she laughs. Great, bubbling laughs that have her clenching her thighs around his head. “You’re so dumb,” she whispers, looking at him like a beloved pet as Bucky looks put out.

“Way to ruin the moment. _Again_ …. _Always_.”

“Buck, c’mon.” She smiles at him, pulls him up so that he’s hovering above her again. “Don’t get so serious. Giggling and looking into your eyes is always going to be better. We aren’t that serious.”

A slow smiles spreads over his face. “Are you saying we’re just casual? Who else do you have hanging around baby?”

She brushes one hand through his hair, the other rests against the swell of his bicep. “You know me, can’t keep my hands off anyone.”

Bucky laughs and dips down to press soft kisses to her neck as Y/N’s hands travel down to fiddle with his belt. “I’m still gonna make you come three times.”

“We’ll see.”

“God I hate you.” He bites her pluse point and sucks hard, making her yelp and then chuckle.

Y/N pushes his jeans down his thighs, his boxers following after. “Those are mine remember? Since I’m not getting my panties back.” He smiles into her neck as her hand circles his cock, lazily stroking him. A low groans leaves him as she guides him to her entrance. “You can do all the work today. I’m just gonna starfish and let you make me come three whole times.” Her voice is light and playful but when Bucky pulls back from her neck his eyes have taken on a soft, amazed look.

He pushes in slowly, pausing when he’s fully seated inside her warm, wet walls. “I love you. Never forget how much I love you.” His voice is low and gentle.

“I love you too, Buck.” Y/N’s fingers run up his sides, over the well trained muscle, before she reaches up and cups her hand to his jaw. “Now do I get to come three times or what?”

 

~

 

She does come three times and passes out halfway through the third.

It’s cool in the empty meadow, and getting cooler. Bucky knows he should wake her and take her back to camp but instead he just rolls to his side and pulls her to his chest. Luckily Y/N has a penchant for buying overly large blankets and so it’s easy to lie on half of it and bring the other half over their bodies to cover them.

Y/N is snuggled down against him, her brow sweat slicked like the rest of her body. Soft, even breaths pass against his collarbones. Their legs are tangled together. He feels settled and good.

“Bucky,” she whispers, opening her eyes to gaze lazily at him. “You’re so good, baby.” Her eyes slip shut again. “You’re so good to me.”

And because he’s a little shit sometimes Bucky reaches between them and swipes a finger over her sensitive clit as he whispers back, “Tell me babydoll, how many times did you come?”

She jerks violently and whines, squirming away from his hand. “Only once but it sorta spaced itself out. Almost like I came on multiple occasions but not quite. It’s a subtle difference.” Y/N pushes his hand away.

“Baby…you passed out.”

“I know what happened.” She says wriggling in his arms so she can meet his eyes. “And now we stargaze.”

“You do like to stargaze.”

Y/N pinches him softly, “I know. I’m being serious. It gives me inspiration.”

His eyes are soft as he watches her turn her eyes heavenward, to watch the night sky. “You find inspiration everywhere.”

“But I only found it in the sky after you made love to me the first time,” she admits. “I looked up at you, and you were being so careful with me. Asking me if I was okay and did you need to go slower and I looked behind your head and I noticed that the dying light of dusk matched the love in your eyes. Your eyes sparkled just like the stars. And I thought I must be pretty important for you to look at me the way the sky looks at the earth.”

Bucky feels something in his chest cave, “Did you know you’re the most perfect person in the world?”

“No,” she cradles his jaw. “ _We_ are.”

He bursts out laughing again and when he calms enough to meet her eyes she has a look in her eyes that lets him know she’ll be drawing this moment later. “Let’s stay here.”

Y/N leans forward and brushes her nose against his, “Only if I can have your underwear.” She grins at her own joke as she draws her foot up his calf.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, pressing his forehead to hers as the both close their eyes. “You can have the stars and the sky and the whole damn world. As long as you keep me too.”

She nestles just a bit closer, letting out a content breath, “I’ll never let you go.”


	12. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you think!

It has been silent for far too long. She’s long since pulled away from Bucky, and is staring at the floor with a look of confusion on her face.

So, he jumps when she finally speaks. “I don’t understand.” She shakes her head and scoots further away from him and looks into his eyes. “I remember the rain…” Y/N nods her head slowly. “I remember that it hurt, the rain was stinging my skin.”

His heart is pounding hard. “But why…” Y/N whispers, “Do you think it’s your fault?” Something like anger sweeps over her features. “Why do you think it’s your fault? Why does _everyone_ think it’s your fault?”

“I was driving…I…didn’t make you wear a helmet. I-,”

“So? We were _run off the road_. It was _my_ choice not to wear the helmet.”

Bucky looks at her with desperation in his eyes. “Don’t do this, doll. Don’t. Don’t tell me it isn’t my fault. It is. Everything is my fault.”

“But it wasn’t! It wasn’t. You were protecting me. You-,”

He squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his fists. “I drove you away! I made you think that I hated you! I thought…I thought you were cheating on me. And everyone thought I was abusing you-,”

Fury fleets over her body and she stands, begins pacing violently back and forth. “But you weren’t! And I think…I’ve been around you these past couple of months and I…I don’t know I don’t think you could have. You would never lay a hand on me.”

“Everyone is going to tell you not to trust me. You are the only person who knows the full story other than me. Everyone is going to say not to-,”

She shakes her head. “I don’t care. I think they’re wrong.”

“You don’t remember-,”

“I am tired of everyone telling me what to think! I want to make my own decisions. I’ve been around you for awhile now and I trust you. I think I love you. You've been nothing but kind and generous and patient and you make me laugh. And nothing is going to change my mind about that. I think I'm falling in love with you and _nothing_ is going to change that!” She's breathing hard, her bottom lip trembling as she lifts her chin in defiance and dares him to contradict her. He doesn't want to and so he says nothing for a moment.

Bucky stands up then and takes her face between his hands. “I love you. That is never going to change.” He leans forward to slant his mouth over hers, moves his lips so slowly against hers, so carefully as if he's trying to memorize everything about her. “No matter what happens, or what you decide, I’ll always wait for you.”

“I have to tell Sam. About what happened at the accident.”

He presses his forehead to hers. “Okay.” Then, “Why?”

She fidgets before she reaches up to wrap her hands around his wrists. “Because I have the most memories of him. Sam and I are friends. Everyone else is blurry and distant but Sam is clear. He’s been there for me since I woke up.”

“I know. I would have-,”

Y/N leans up and kisses him. “I know you would have been too if they had given you the chance to be.” She pulls away again, leaving him to feel very cold. “I have another question.”

Fear threads in his veins, tightens his chest, threatens to choke him. “What?”

“What happened to Rumlow?”

 

~

 

“Hey Y/N,” Sam nods at her as he comes into the apartment. “Lookin’ good,” he jerks his chin at the painting she’s working on.

She smiles. “Thanks. I think they’re starting to mimic the way my art was before.”

Sam grabs a water from the fridge and turns to her with a frown on his face. “You’re trying to get it to mimic before?”

Y/N shakes her head and plops down on the paint splattered sheet spread across the living room floor, as she stares up at the canvas. “Not exactly. It’s just…starting to. The more that comes back-,”

“Right,” Sam says, coming to sit down next to her on the floor. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and athletic shorts, and Y/N leans away from him a little, wrinkling her nose.

“You smell.” There's a thin sheen of sweat on his skin from his run.

Sam ignores her, rolling his eyes as they look at the half-finished painting together. “I want to talk to you about Barnes.”

She sighs. “What about him?”

For a moment he’s quiet, choosing his words carefully before he speaks. “Well…I’m just trying to look out for you okay? I know you spend a lot of time together now. I know he’s telling you his version of the past-,”

“The only version.”

“What?”

She turns to meet his eyes, “It is the only version of the past. No one else was there. And…from what I remember about him, from how he’s treats me now, and from how I feel, I simply don’t think he could hurt me. His version of events make sense.”

“Look, I’m not trying to discredit him. I’m just saying there are two sides to every story.”

Y/N reaches over and takes his hand. “Why were you the only one to defend him? Even Steve doubted him. But you-,”

“When we were kids...I saw something that convinced me even then that he’d never hurt you, that he'd do everything to stop that from happening. And he continued to prove it while we grew up. But Br-,” He stops and glances over.

She squeezes his hand. “I know about Brock Rumlow remember?"

Sam sighs. “Alright, well, he continued to prove he was a little asshole. He always pushed you around and said mean things to you. And, well, I never thought much of the little boy who pushed the girl down because he liked her. Barnes, no matter how angry he was at the world, was soft with you. He’d get these big doe eyes and follow you around like it would kill him if he didn’t. And he was protective. Very, very protective and I just, somehow, could never imagine the switch flipping.”

He continues after a beat of silence. “Brock, on the other hand, always seemed jealous and like he had it out for everyone. Especially you and Barnes.”

Silence settles as the late afternoon light floats across the room. It warms their skin, illuminates the paint spattered across her old jeans and t-shirt. “But what about Steve?”

“What about Steve?” Sam asks, playing with the label on his water bottle with his free hand.

She bites her lip rather hard, “Steve is his best friend and-and Steve even thought that-,”

But he’s already shaking his head. “He didn’t think so. But he did think that you should have been kept apart, for the time being. And he thought…all the evidence we had pointed to…he never wanted to believe it. I don’t think he believed it about Bucky but he cares about you too. And it really looks like-,” he shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “Anyways, Steve and Bucky are okay. And we’re all on his side. Just like you wanted us to be.”

“He hasn’t done anything,” she says, her voice suddenly fierce. “He’s was…maybe it could have been handled better but he didn’t do anything.”

Sam leans back and sighs heavily. “I know. Where is the guy anyways?”

She shrugs. “With Steve. At physical therapy, I think. For his arm.”

“Well since the shadow has disappeared I’m going to tell you about the moment I decided Bucky Barnes would rather die than do something to hurt you.”

A smile graces her face. “Okay.”

 

~

 

“Hey!” Sam’s just rounded the corner into the apartment and found Y/N on the floor. He’s just come from playing basketball at a friend’s, ready to eat dinner at Y/N’s house as he and his father did once a week every week. He stares down at her. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Her bottom lip trembles before she bites it. “Bucky made a new friend and he’s better than me because he’s a boy.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

She shrugs a little helplessly and looks up at Sam. “You shouldn’t cuss you know. Dad says it’ll make your tongue fall out.”

He shrugs, “My dad says the same thing. It doesn’t mean it’s true.” When she doesn’t argue with him he sits down next to her. “Who’s his new friend then?”

“Some kid. Just moved here and now they’re in love.”

Sam snorts. “Sure.” She doesn’t say anything again, only rubs her eyes tiredly and looks at the floor. “What happened?”

She shrugs. “He’s my only friend in my class because everyone thinks I’m too loud and weird. And then this kid, Steve, shows up and they’re suddenly best friends. No one wants to talk to me and if they do it’s to say something mean. And Bucky just said, ‘see ya later Y/N!’ and left me alone. He went to play baseball after school and everyone loves Bucky this year. So everybody went and he didn’t invite me. Made sure everyone else was being nice to the new kid but…Brock pushed me down and said nobody wanted me there. I don't know what I did to make everyone hate me all of a sudden."

“Barnes didn’t say anything?”

“Didn’t see it,” she whispers. “And he was supposed to help with my project and now it’ll never get done in time for the art show next weekend.”

Sam stands and offers his hand to her, “I’ll help you finish up your art and then we’ll go see Barnes.”

“Sam-,”

“C’mon! We haven’t got all day.”

She smiles and takes his hand. “Thanks Sammy.”

 

~

 

Later that evening, covered in paint and grinning from ear to ear, they make their way back to the baseball pitch. “Everybody loves you Y/N,” Sam says. “Everyone has really liked you for a long time. I don’t know why this year would be any different.” Sam thinks maybe someone might have said something to the other kids, to make them steer clear of Y/N.

She shrugs. “I dunno.”

Then they’re at the pitch, but baseball is no longer going on. Instead Bucky is sitting in the grass alone, everyone else having gone home. Bucky looks up suddenly, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles and spots Sam and Y/N.

“Y/N!” He shouts happily. “Where have you been? We needed a pitcher…” His voice trails off as the two come closer. “What’s going on?”

Sam crosses his arms, “You have some real nerve Barnes.”

Bucky looks confusedly between the two them as he rips up grass with one hand. Mostly he looks at Y/N and the paint smeared on her clothes. “Did you finish your project? I told you that I’d help you with it. I was just about to head over. Steve just left, I was talking to him.” He sounds more than a little hurt that she would do something with Sam that they normally did together.

“I went home because you didn’t want me here and so Sam helped me.”

“Didn’t want you here?” He looks between the two of them. “Who told you that? I told you I'd see you here.”

Y/N looks away and crosses her arms. “No one had to tell me. I know you don't want me around anymore.”

“Who?” He growls out.

“Brock.” She admits as Sam glares at Bucky, warning him with his eyes that he’d better fix this. No one liked to see Y/N upset and ever since the beginning of the school year everyone had suddenly been mean to her. Mean and hurtful, acting exactly the way someone else they knew acted towards her.

He frowns, “What did he say?”

She wipes at her nose and refuses to look at Bucky. “He said that you didn’t want to be my friend anymore because I’m a girl. That everyone’s always made fun of you for it, hanging around a girl all the time. And then he pushed me down and said to stay away from you and the pitch and so I did. I thought you just didn’t want to hurt my-,”

“He _pushed_ you? He _said_ that?” Bucky pauses, absorbs the information. "Did he hurt you? What else did he say?" He doesn't give them a chance to answer.

Sam steps in front of Bucky who has suddenly sprung up from the grass with murder in his eyes. “Hey,” Sam says carefully. “He’s bigger and older than you. I don’t think-,”

But Bucky is shoving Sam out of the way and charging off. “Bucky!” Y/N yells after him. But he really can’t be stopped.

 

~

 

“What happened then?” Y/N asks quietly as the sun begins to fade.

Sam shrugs. “Old Bucky boy got his ass kicked and we had to drag him home. A year older made the difference at the time. Brock had shot up a few inches and Bucky was still scrawny and thin. Somewhere along the way we met Steve and he helped us get Barnes home.”

“He would only let you patch him up and the whole time he smiled up at you like he didn’t have a black eye and bruised ribs. And ya know…looking back on it now he had to go home and do it all again but he smiled for you. Even if you yelled at him for being an idiot.”

“And me and Steve stood in the doorway and listened as the front door opened and our dads came down the hall. Bucky looked up at you with a bloody lip and said, ‘Worth it. It will always be worth it, for you.’ I knew, even then, that he meant it and that he would always defend you, never hurt you or let some other asshole hurt you.”

She glances down at Sam’s hand, still resting against hers before she smiles. “Thanks Sam. Don’t get so serious. It doesn’t suit you.”

He sighs, “I know. Just thought you should know that Barnes has always looked bad for a lot of reasons but, Rumlow’s always been fucked up. Especially over you and Barnes. He's always been jealous.”


	13. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you think!!

“What happened to Rumlow?” Bucky shakes his head, tries to take Y/N’s hand. But she darts away from him. “Tell me Barnes!”

He flinches, falls to his knees. “Please don’t do this, baby.” His voice is barely a whisper. “ _Please_.”

But Y/N isn’t willing to hear it. She turns away and paces back and forth over the hardwood floors. He lets her do it, figures its best to just let her get her anxiety out. But then she stops and turns to examine him on the floor. “Is he dead?”

“What? No, I-,”

“He hasn’t come home.” Her voice breaks on the last word. “I love him and he hasn’t come home and it’s your fault.” She steps closer, anger radiating off of her. “You hurt him didn’t you? All so you could have me to yourself!”

Bucky opens his mouth to contradict her when she grabs his hair and yanks hard. “I hate you. You took away what I love most. You’re selfish and conniving and I think you deserve punishment.”

She drags him along the floor like he weighs nothing and when he looks up it’s no longer Y/N gripping his hair but his mother. He’s suddenly a child again. “You ruined my fucking life.” She lifts her hand as Bucky raises his hands in front of his face.

The hit never comes. He’s holding something very tightly in his hands as a soft voice whispers his name. “Bucky?”

He unclenches his eyes and looks up to meet Y/N’s concerned gaze. The light from the fairy lights along the bed’s headboard give her a soft glow. “Bucky?” He has a bruising grip on her wrists as she sits next to him in bed. The sheets pool around her pajama clad body. “Are you okay?” With a deep sigh he releases her wrists but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t quite trust his voice. Y/N lifts one hand and carefully pushes her fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what has you so spooked but it’s okay. We’re safe here.”

“C’mere,” he whispers as he pulls her down against his chest. She lies stiffly against him for a moment before she relaxes slightly, muscles uncoiling. Of course, _of course_ , this would happen now. He’d finally convinced Y/N to spend a night in their apartment, sleep a night surrounded by their things, her paintings and books, her clothes and Bucky’s mixed together in the closet. Boxing trophies and plaques hang from the walls and sit on high shelves. In Bucky’s bedside table lies piles of handwritten poems and stories and some art made just for him. Under all that he has letters of his own. Letters he’s been writing since Y/N started writing to him, sealed and never given.

So of course he would have a nightmare while they slept in the same bed. In _their_ bed. The bed they had went to Ikea to purchase together. The bed that they stole Steve’s truck to be able to haul home. The bed they put together together.

The bed they made love in and fucked in and slept in. The bed Y/N stayed up doing her homework in the winter while she pressed her freezing feet into Bucky’s sore muscles. The bed they lied naked in in the summer with the windows open when the heat became unbearable.

The whole apartment is filled with things that are just…them. Everything seemed to have so many memories attached to them. It hurt that only Bucky remembered how important it all is. He’s also hoping it’ll jog her memory.

Bucky squeezes her tighter as she whispers, “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Always no,” she murmurs quietly.

He sighs, “Not always.” She struggles away from him and sits upright as Bucky follows suit. “Y/N-,”

“This was a mistake.” Y/N shakes her head. “I think we’re a bad influence on each other.” But even as she says it she reaches out to take his hand. “You won’t tell me about certain things because you don’t want to drive me away and I think that’s unfair. I think I deserve to know who Rumlow is. I think I deserve to know what happened after he ran us off the road. It’s not like he did _that_ and then just let us go.”

She swallows hard and then continues, “Sam told me a story the other night while you were at physical therapy. He told me about how he was mean to me when we were kids. So what happened?”

“He wasn’t always mean to you. He grew out of it, or I guess he didn’t. I guess he was just trying to get you, you know? Tried to take you away from me, everyone always has. I’ve never been good enough for you and everyone’s always known it but you.”

He looks up at her through his lashes, tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry I’m trying to hold onto you so hard. But I was, I _am_ , a big part of your life, whether people like it or not. And that’s got to help. It _has_ to. I-I-I can’t mean _nothing_. Everything we’ve been through can’t mean _nothing_.”

For a moment she doesn’t say anything but then she dives forward and throws her arms around his neck. “Will you go on a date with me?” She asks. “Maybe we can-,” Y/N pulls back to meet his eyes and knows ‘start over’ isn’t the best thing to say. “Maybe I can let you tell me about the good times. All I ever do is ask about the bad. Sam says you were good to me. Always.”

Bucky pulls her back to his chest. “I tried to be Y/N. I tried to be the best that I could be for you.”

She puts her hand on his jaw and leans her forehead against his. They both close their eyes. “I believe you.”

“Okay.”

“What did we do for our first date?”

He smiles but keeps his eyes closed, “I was so nervous that we just did the usual. Dinner and a movie. And it was a disaster. I spilled food on you, had a fight with some guy in the parking lot, got you home late, hit you with a door I was trying to open for you.” He smiles wider, “And you thought it was all so _cute_. Told me so when I started to really get anxious and stutter.”

She giggles and pulls her face away from his so they can look into each other’s eyes. “Okay the second date then?”

Bucky stares at her for a moment as he leans his head into her hand. It’s quiet for so long that she thinks he might not answer. But then he meets her eyes again and takes a deep breath. “I said I would tell you about the good times and so I will. Because this was _good_. We went hiking and we got lost, only a little lost. But you said, ‘We know this forest, Buck. We’ve been coming up here since forever so let’s just stay.’ And I said okay and later that night I made love to you for the first time.”

A rush of heat comes into her cheeks then. “Oh…so early? How old were we?”

“Sixteen, I think, almost seventeen. But I’ve always been sure about you, doll. And in that moment you were sure about me.”

“Did I regret it? Later?”

He stiffens, not expecting that question. Her head is tilted to the side curiously and Bucky knows she doesn’t mean anything by it. “No,” he says quietly. “I don’t think you did. At least you never told me if you did.” He pauses for a moment, “Maybe that’s a question for Wanda or Natasha.”

Something stirs in her at the mention of the pair, who had stopped hanging around Sam’s lately. “Something-,”

“Something happened between Natasha and I. Yes.” Bucky reaches up and presses his hand over hers that still rests against his face. “I told you this already.”

She bites her lip. “I know. And I said I wasn’t upset about it but you never said what happened. I just assumed and-,”

He shakes his head and pulls her hand away from his face. “We had sex. It wasn’t a relationship, it was just sex. It happened while you were with Rumlow.”

“Because you kissed me and ran away?”

There’s a familiar tightness in his chest, because it feels like they’re going to fight. “Well, it didn’t happen exactly like that.”

When he doesn’t say anything more, Y/N pats his hand and says, “I’m sorry I got so upset the first time you tried to tell me. I want you to tell me now.” He stays silent and she pulls her hand away from his. “Bucky I _need_ to patch together events in my head.”

“Then let me put together some of the good ones.”

His heart pounds harder as she pulls away from him entirely and says, “I need you to tell me what happened to Rumlow.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I can’t. Okay? I can’t. He’s gone. Why does it matter?”

She shoots up out of bed, “It matters because I lost my memory, Barnes!” Her voice trembles and he flinches away from the harsh use of his last name, “I lost my memories! I don’t know who I am, I don’t know who you are! I can’t remember my _father_! I can’t remember my best friend! I can’t-can’t remember _you_.” Y/N’s shoulders slump as she buries her face in her hands, a sob ripping free from her throat. “I want to remember you. It’s always there at the edges of my memory and I…just…can’t.”

Y/N takes a shaky breath and then whispers, “And I’m so terrified I’ll lose you because of it. I'm so, so scared."


	14. Market

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! 
> 
> I hope you like it! And as always let me know what you think!

“When’s the last time you saw Bucky?”

Y/N sniffs and adjusts the basket on her arm. “A few days ago.”

“He misses you,” Steve says, half sighs exasperatedly.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment as she picks up an apple, examines it, and puts it back down. “I don’t care.”

They’re at an outdoor market, people milling around in the early morning sun searching for fresh produce. Steve wants to say something else but he really doesn’t know what. He finds his voice eventually as he watches Y/N pick up a few plums and put them into her basket, subconsciously buying something for Bucky. "Yes you do. You care," he says tiredly. Then, when she glares at him he says, “Look he’s really sorry, Y/N-,”

“ _Sorry_?” She asks, whipping around to look him in the eyes. “He _laughed_ at me.” Her voice trembles dangerously. “He laughed and called me ridiculous. I tell him I’m afraid of losing him and he-,”

“I _think_ ,” Steve interrupts. “That he meant it might be a little ridiculous to him because he feels like he’s already lost _you_ and he’s trying so hard to get you back. He wasn't laughing at you, it's just that the whole thing seems like one practical joke after the other to him, of things and people trying to take you away. He’s never felt like he’s been anything but _yours_ so for you to feel like he might leave you-”

Her nose scrunches up in irritation even as a blush coats her cheeks. “He should have said so then. Instead he let me-,” Y/N stops again and whirls back around. The whole thing is somewhat ridiculous. “He let me leave that night. He let me storm away.” Her throat tightens. “I just feel like I’m taking advantage of his kindness and that he’ll eventually tire of me not being the person he knows, the person he really loves. Because he doesn't love _me,_ he loves _her,_ the girl in his memory.”

“You’re you. That’s all he’s concerned about. And you’re trying so hard. He’s waiting for you to leave _him_ , you realize that don’t you?”

She swallows hard and moves away from Steve. “I’m just going to be over here a moment.” A horrible fissure runs through her voice and she coughs, trying desperately to clear it. “I don’t want to talk about Bucky anymore. I’ll see him when I’m ready. It’s hard to have your fears laughed at no matter how absurd.”

Steve lets her wander off on her own for a moment, deciding it best to let her collect her thoughts alone. Because she’s not wrong and he knows that. He turns and heads in the other direction of the small market.

Y/N wanders around the stalls for a while, picking up anything that takes her fancy, examining it, and then either putting it in her basket or dropping it back to the pile. A smile graces her face when she looks up at the vendors.  

_“Doll?” Bucky is smiling at her, tugging on her hand. He looks up at the old woman selling tomatoes and grins wider before looking back to Y/N. “Want some, baby? She only sells the best. Isn't that right Ms. Bright?”_

_The old woman shakes her head with a smile on her face. “You’re such a charmer, James Barnes.”_

_Y/N's hand tightens on his, “I think so too.”_

_“Right,” Bucky says, proud blush coating his cheeks. “We’ll take four.”_

Y/N stumbles, bringing her hand not occupied with the basket up to her forehead. Pain pulses through her skull as someone puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Are you okay?”

She looks up into a pair of brown eyes. He smiles at her, showing his teeth. “Uh, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Are you sure? You looked like you were about to pass out.” Something about him seems familiar but she can’t quite put her finger on it. He has short thick, dark hair neatly combed to the side and a gentle smile on his face. She realizes belatedly that she’s staring. “Ma’am?”

She glances away and takes a step back. “Yes. I’m-I’m okay.” He’s muscular and quite handsome. “I just need to get back to my friend.”

“Oh. You’re here with someone.” He ducks his hand, shaking it sadly. "Of course a girl like you would be with someone."

For a moment she stays quiet, tries to assess the strange feeling in her stomach. “Well he’s just my friend Steve. I should be getting back to him though.”

He perks up at that, extending his hand. “Mind if I get the name of such a pretty girl?” Y/N blushes and takes his hand, murmuring her name quietly. “I’m Jake. It’s good to meet you. This might be a little forward but maybe you’d like to go out sometime?”

“Oh,” She takes her hand back. “I, uh, I-,” Y/N stutters to a stop. Does she already have a person? Who is Bucky to her? Someone who wanted to keep her. Someone she might love but whom she wasn’t with. Someone who wanted her to be better but who also seemed unable to accept she might never remember.

And what then?

What if she never remembered?

He had laughed at her fears. But she also thinks he might be in a little bit of denial. She might never be herself again.

Y/N shifts her weight from foot to foot. And Bucky hadn’t exactly tried to find her over the last few days. Maybe he’s finally coming to his senses. Maybe he had figured out that she’ll never be the same again. A sick feeling pools in her gut. 

Because she hadn't been lying. She thinks she probably loves him.

But this guy, Jake, doesn’t know anything about her. She can be whoever she’s starting to become and not disappoint him. “Maybe I’ll just take your number for now.” She smiles sweetly at him.

She should let Bucky go, no matter how hard he tried to clutch onto her. Because she’d never be the same as before and all she’d ever do is disappoint him. “Sure,” the guy is saying, smiling widely. “Yeah, of course. I’d love to take the girl in the pretty sun dress out sometime.”

“Oh so the dress is pretty but not me?” She says suddenly, surprising herself as she takes his proffered phone and enters her phone number.

Jake chuckles. “Never said that. The dress is pretty. The girl is beautiful.”

Another blush flames her cheeks as she hands his phone back. “Well maybe I’ll see you around.” He glances over her shoulder and seems to see something he doesn’t like. Quickly he leans forward and kisses her cheek. His mouth lingers a little long against her skin but she chalks the shiver that runs up her spine to anticipation and excitement.

“See ya around. Really good to meet you and remember to sit down if you feel dizzy again.” He sends her another charming smile and then walks away.

She’s still smiling when she finds Steve by the entrance to the market. “Hey, you ready to go?” Steve frowns then. “What’s got you smiling so big?”

“Nothing. It’s just a beautiful day.”

 

~

 

Sam has invited Natasha and Wanda over for dinner again and Y/N has mistakenly told them about the person she had met at the market. They seemed happy for her but then again they both disapproved heavily of Bucky.

Nat in particular seemed to distrust him immensely. And they wanted to hear all about the stranger from the market.

However, Sam seemed to think the whole thing a bad idea. “Giving your number to a complete stranger I mean c’mon Y/N…and you’re leading Barnes on now-,”

“No she isn’t.” Wanda says.

Natasha nods. “He’s made her feel terrible and guilty. Love isn’t supposed to do that.”

“Oh so the strange man in the market is better?”

“Ignore Sam. Tell what he looks like! Is he cute?”

Y/N starts to describe him as the two girls listen and Sam rolls his eyes. He had thought normalcy important and so he had so far kept up weekly dinner with the girls. But now he’s starting to think maybe the girls were a bad influence, encouraging the wrong things. And then he starts to listen closer to her description of the man.

Sam turns from the stove, watches the girls talk at the table, and then interjects. “Y/N…do you actually remember Rumlow? What he looks like?”

She pauses mid-sentence and looks over. “I’ve had memories _about_ him. But none actually featuring him. Why?”

Dread courses through Sam’s veins before he pulls out his phone and searches for a picture of the other man.

“Is this the man from the market?” He walks closer and holds out his phone.

She takes his phone, pales, and then very slowly, she nods. Sam’s heart is beating fast and he opens his mouth to say something when Y/N shoots up from the table, drops his phone, and darts to the bathroom. Sounds of retching echo down the hall as Sam snatches up his phone and searches for Steve’s contact. The girls run to help Y/N and Sam thinks that things have gone from bad to very seriously fucked, bypassing worst altogether.

"Hello?"

"He's back."


	15. Confusion

Sam calls Steve.

Steve calls Bucky.

Bucky is at the gym with one of their trainers, who happens to be giving him great news. He’s right on track to be going back into matches soon. It’s been months since Y/N has been back in his life and the trainer seems to think she’s a positive influence. He’s less violent and less easily prone to aggravation. With a pep in his step, he leaves the gym, unaware that his old enemy has returned and is watching him from across the street.

On a brand new motorcycle.

Natasha protests Bucky being called. She doesn’t want to see him.

Wanda disagrees and holds Y/N’s hair back, who is still violently throwing up as the population of the apartment watches from the doorway. Bucky should be called. Or, no, they should do what Y/N wants.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Wanda’s voice is soft and comforting.

And she only has one answer as she leans against the cool porcelain. “Bucky.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, protectiveness sliding off her in waves. “He hurt you. He-,”

Y/N struggles away from Wanda and stands, her legs shaking beneath her. “No. He didn’t. I know what happened. He told me what happened. And this…this Rumlow person proves it.” Her stomach lurches again when she says his name. “You don’t know what happened between us, don’t pretend you do. I’m afraid. I want him here.”

No one says anything for a moment before Natasha asks lowly, “What happened then? What did Rumlow do? Tell us.”

She doesn’t think she should, something like suspicion growing inside her. But she opens her mouth anyways right as the front door is thrown open. “Y/N!”

A much quieter voice murmurs, “You’re going to upset her more, Buck. You need to calm down.”

Boots scuff against the floor as both men make their way through the apartment. Bucky and Steve appear in the doorway behind Natasha and Sam. There’s a tense moment of silence as they all stare at each other before Bucky shoulders past Nat who seems to be trying to block his way in. She’s surprisingly hard to move for someone who is relatively small.

When he reaches Y/N he wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. “Tell them to leave,” he whispers in her ear. “They won’t do it if I tell them.”

And because she does want to be alone with Bucky, and because she does want them to leave, she says, “Please go.”

They do. Slowly, and one at a time, but they do. The girls take an especially long time to go.

When the door snaps shut Bucky reaches out and locks it. They sink to the ground together after that, Bucky pulling her securely against his chest, his back against the door. “It’s going to be okay.”

She clutches at his shirt with desperate fingers. “Why won’t he leave us be?”

“He will.”

“Bucky, we have to go to the police.” Her voice cracks, “How am I supposed to live like this? I’m so stupid. I played right into it.”

He rubs her back carefully, “Tell me what happened.”

The fear that Bucky will leave her comes creeping, sneaking back, right under her skin, worming back into her heart. But she tells him because he deserves to know. She recounts what happened at the market that morning. “-and I agreed to give him my number. Because I think you deserve more. I think you deserve that girl that you that you search for every time you look me in the eyes. I’m never going to be her again. I don’t know how to be her-,”

Anger surges through him before she lets out a terrible sob and whispers, “I just want you to be _happy_. And I can’t do that. I can’t make you happy.”

The fact that she’s currently being hunted and sought after by a person who had abused her, taken her memories, but is still worrying about his happiness astounds him. And if that isn’t proof that she’s still the same person at her core, he doesn’t know what is. “You do make me happy. I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t enough.” His fingers slide down her spine, her face tucked against his neck. “You don’t have to be anyone. And you are still you, in ways you don’t even realize or understand. But I see it. I see you. _I see you_.”

She’s still and silent against him.

“And I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.”

Y/N turns to kiss his cheek before she pulls away from him and stands. “I want to go home.”

He frowns and stands as well, immediately taking her hand back, “You are home.”

“Our home. Our apartment. I’m too nervous here.”

A nod, a small confirmation, is all it takes for her to unlock the door and drag him out of the bathroom.

 

~

 

Somehow, it’s almost like old times.

Y/N sits in bed with a pillow in her lap and a notebook resting there. She’s writing. She won’t say what.

Her feet are under the comforter, pressed against his side, cold as they always have been. Bucky’s lying down, staring at her as her nose scrunches with concentration.

He wants to ask her to be his girl again. But he doesn’t really know how, especially when he thought they were together already and Y/N hadn’t had a clue. So, he says nothing. It’s silent and still and despite what had happened earlier in the day, it’s almost peaceful. His eyes droop.

Then the soft scratch of her pencil on paper stops. Bucky’s just about to fall asleep when, “He kissed me.”

Suddenly wide awake, he shoots up and stares at her. “He what?” He growls out.

“On my cheek.” She doesn’t seem as concerned as Bucky feels. In fact her voice seems void of any emotion. “And when he was a stranger I thought it was just a…sweet gesture. But now-,” Y/N pauses and bites her lip. “I think he was marking me.”

Bucky wraps an arm around her, then tilts her chin up and presses his lips against hers. It's possessive yet soft. “I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

She meets his eyes and presses one hand to his cheek. The notebook and pencil lie forgotten as they lie back together. He kisses her lazily until they both start to nod off. He swipes away the tears the roll down her cheeks and wishes that she could be happy.

 

~

 

Y/N wakes to her phone ringing. A sleeping Bucky doesn’t even stir. So she disentangles herself from him and grabs the vibrating device. Her heart seems to stop beating when she looks at the display.

A blocked number is calling her.

Making a split second decision she darts out of their room and into the bathroom.

She swipes her finger across the screen before she can chicken out or change her mind. “Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. By that gathering at your old man’s place tonight I’d say someone figured out who I am.” The smirk in his voice makes her want to scream.

A shiver runs up her back as something scratches at her mind. “What do you want from me?” She feels defeated already.

He sighs deeply, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want _you_.” Sincerity coats his voice, making Y/N shiver hard again. No doubt he does.

“I want you to leave me alone.”

He ignores her. “I saw you standing there this morning and it was just too good to be true. But it was you and you looked at me and didn’t recognize me and I did the best I could. I lied to you, yes. But you broke my heart this morning. How could you not remember me? After everything we’ve been through together? But I didn’t want to scare you. No doubt Barnes has been spinning lies about me. _Again_.”

Bile rises in the back of her throat. But she has to know. _She has to_. “What are you talking about?” He sounds eerily like Bucky. Bucky has said those things to her before, or some version of them. _Everything we’ve been through._

“Baby…me and you. What lies has he been telling you?”

Her mouth trembles. She doesn’t know what to say. “Don't call me that. He says a lot of things and I have people to back it up as fact.” But she sounds unsure, even to her own ears.

“Mm. I’m sure you do. All of Barnes’s friends.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you mean everything to me. And how that sob story Barnes has managed to win you over I’ll never understand. We’re meant to be together, me and you. It was so good Y/N-,”

A wild surge of volatility surges through her. “No!” She shouts. “No, you hit me! You abused me, you were horrible to me-,”

“Was I? Is that what he told you? That I beat you? Controlled you? I never laid a hand on you. If you should be mad at anyone it should be him. He’s the one that’s so dependent he can’t live without you. You got into Columbia. You were going to go to law school. Instead you stayed here and became what? A _writer?_ An _artist?_ Because he needed you to, because his career was taking off. I encouraged you to go. He couldn’t stand it. He’s always been jealous and protective.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles a little, humorless and bitter. “You don’t know what to believe. He could be a liar. And you wouldn’t have a damn clue. I’ve always been there for you to fall back on when he gets mean. He’s admitted that at least hasn’t he? That he gets mean when he thinks you’re slipping away, when he gets afraid you might leave him. And then you conveniently lose your memory? Forget all the mean things he said and did? Nice.”

She can’t speak. Because he’s right. She doesn’t know.

“I’ve gotta go now, baby. Maybe he never hit you, but he kept you hidden when you were meant to shine. You should have been doing great things by now. Oh, gotta cut us off here. He’ll be at the door.”

The phone goes dead. Someone knocks loudly at the door. “Y/N?”


	16. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you guys!!
> 
> Let me know what you think! Can you believe we only have a couple of chapters left??

“It isn’t true,” Sam shakes his head and glances around the diner.

Y/N frowns at him, “How could you possibly-,”

He rolls his eyes before going back to tracking a pretty waitress around the room. Now it’s Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes as he flashes the cute girl a charming smile. “I know because you two made it known. It wasn’t subtle. You were too in love for that. And Rumlow…Y/N he’s always been a damned liar.”

She chews her lip and stares into her mug of coffee. The diner feels half like home, the staff having all greeted her by name. She must have spent a lot of time here, with her father and Bucky and Sam and probably a whole lot of other people. The pretty waitress stops by to drop off their food, her hand immediately going to Sam’s shoulder as she flirts a little.

When she’s gone Y/N asks, “So what about Columbia then? He said some things that-that rang true.”

“The nature of a good lie is to involve a little truth.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He rolls his eyes and jabs his fork into his eggs. They're getting breakfast for dinner which Y/N decides she likes a lot. “It means that some of what Rumlow said is true and some of it is outright lies. For one thing, he’s delusional. You only dated him that one time for three weeks when you were fifteen. He’s always been obsessed with you and Barnes, weirdly obsessed.”

For a time after that, Y/N tries to eat, tries to forget about it.

She also tries to forget Bucky’s wounded expression when she had opened the bathroom door and told him that she’d been on the phone with Rumlow. She hasn’t spoken with him since then.

Its been two weeks since then but she knows he's been keeping a close eye on her. Everyone has. She's never alone anymore lest Rumlow try something.

“But,” Y/N starts, “As he said…you’re all his friends and-,”

“You really think that we would all lie about Barnes to you so he could, what? Keep beating you? No. It’s because I never believed it. It’s because he loves you. I have no loyalty to Barnes but I have loyalty to you. He never hurt you. Why would we all lie so that he could keep hurting you? You saw how it was when you woke up anyways…they didn’t want to believe it but your safety and wellbeing came first, so we kept you away from him, just in case.” He shakes his head, “Rumlow is a liar. He hurt you when you were dating and I wouldn’t put it past him to hurt you to get to Barnes, to sabotage him.”

She taps her fingers nervously against the table. “And…Columbia? That’s a really good school. That’s a school whose name opens doors.”

Sam puts his fork down and reaches across the table for her hand. “You turned it down. And not because of Bucky.”

“Why then?”

Lightly, he squeezes her hand, “Your father got sick right before your freshman year. You decided to stay here because they didn’t know how long he had left. And then he died when you were a sophomore. Your dad was the one that wanted you to be a lawyer. You never did. You always wanted to be a writer. All you did was write when we were kids. Write and read and make art. You’ve always had a story to tell and I’m sorry Rumlow shit on that. But he’s done much worse.” He pauses for a second. “And y’know Barnes has always been protective but never possessive. He would never stop you from chasing an opportunity.”

There’s a brief pause before Sam says, “I can honestly say he’s always wanted what’s best for you. And he’s always trusted you to know what it is that’s best for you.”

Y/N remains silent and takes her hand back from under his, lets Sam flirt with the waitress for a while. She watches Sam’s smiles and small touches and feels herself missing Bucky.

Because Sam’s right. And she's always know who is right.

She’s talked to Rumlow all of once, and all he’d done was try to confuse her. He had been rude, sometimes downright mean, talked over top of her. And most of all, she had felt fear, and he hadn’t even been in the room. But his voice had been enough to make her blood run cold.

Bucky on the other hand, always did his best. He was kind and patient. And for the life of her she can’t imagine him being anything but patient and kind and warm to her. Couples fought and if he had thought that she had been cheating then maybe he had been a little short with her. But she simply can’t see him being mean. And she certainly can't see him hurting her.

“I gotta go Sam,” she says, jumping up from the table.

Sam looks away from the waitress just in time to see her dart out the front door.

She’s on her phone in a second, calling Bucky. “Y/N?” he answers nearly immediately.

Something flutters in her chest when she hears his voice and the concern laced there. “Come to the diner? Pick me up?”

He hesitates half a second. “Yeah. Okay. Two minutes.”

Sam pushes open the door and raises his eyebrows at her as she hangs up. “If you haven’t forgotten there’s a crazy person after you.”

“Bucky’s coming to get me.”

He smiles, knowing he’d gotten his point across. “I’ll wait with you.” Sam leans against the side of building, “I’m glad you trust me Y/N. It’s hard for your best friend not to know you or trust you.”

A thread of guilt enters her. “I’m sorry Sam-,”

He waves her down, “You’re getting to be more like you every day. I’m glad to have you back.” A gentle hand is pressed to her shoulder before he pulls her in for a hug. “Really glad, Y/N.”

Y/N lets out a hard breath and hugs him back hard. “Thanks.”

A truck pulls up and the whir of an electric window can be heard. “Hey, you called?” He sounds surprised and guilty and worried all wrapped in one.

Y/N pulls away from Sam and kisses his cheek. “I’m happy too.” He just smiles and pushes her toward Steve’s borrowed vehicle.

She gives a half smile to Bucky as she climbs into the truck. “Hey.”

The only thing he manages to do is grimace back. He thinks she’s going to yell at him, tell him where exactly he can go, that she believes Rumlow over him. That she’ll go to him. “Where do you need to go?” He doesn’t look at her but his voice is soft, gentle.

“I just wanted to be with you.” She reaches out and puts her hand over his, where it rests on the center console. Bucky still doesn’t look at her. “Listen, Bucky, I wanted to tell you something important.” He moves his hand away from hers and shifts the truck into drive.

As they pull away from the curb he finally finds his voice again, swallowing dryly, “I know what you need to tell me. You believe him, not me. I’m not worth it. He is.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No. Take me to the meadow.”

He glances over quickly, eyes refocusing on the road immediately. Anxiousness pours off of him in waves and Y/N reaches out to him, tries to soothe his nervousness. She slides the back of her hand down his arm, “Pull over? Please?”  

And because he’ll never be able to say no to her, he does. As soon as the truck comes to a stop and Bucky shifts it into park Y/N takes her seatbelt off. She leans over to take his face between her hands. “Bucky?” Reluctantly, he meets her eyes. “I am so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve to have to deal with someone so flighty and fearful. You don’t deserve any of what’s been put upon you. And I am so sorry. I’m sorry I keep leaving you and running away and discrediting what you’ve told me. I’m sorry. And I want to show you that I’m sorry. I know this is most difficult on you too. I’m so sorry Buck.”

Bucky brings a hand up to cover one of hers still against his face. “Nothing to be sorry about Y/N.”

“Take me to the meadow?” He smiles against her hand and with the sight of it Y/N seems to be able to breathe easier. A weight is lifted off of her chest.

“Well doll,” he says. “We need to go back to our place first. Get some supplies.”

She takes his hand and kisses his palm lightly, “Whatever you say, Buck.” He shivers.

 

~

 

They collect blankets and snacks and wine, and then they go back to the truck and make their way back to the meadow. The drive there is picturesque. Waving fields of long grass, sunshine slanting over the blades as the road winds between it all up a hill.

Eventually the grass turns to trees and forest, before Bucky pulls off the road. “Where are we?”

“Gotta walk from here babydoll,” he smiles softly at her. Y/N just shrugs and follows him, figuring that he knows best, or at least where they’re going.

It’s a long walk, one that takes even longer because Y/N is mesmerized by the swaying trees above them, a small breeze makes the leaves dance and twist. Each time she stops to look up and stare, mouth hanging open in awe, Bucky does too. He never rushes her, only smiles and watches her, admires the wonder and pure joy on her face.

But when she stops for probably the twelfth time Bucky takes her hand and leans down to whisper in her ear. “I’ll take you to a place where we can lie and when you look up all you see are a canopy of trees. You always said they were the most vibrant, the greenest.” He leans back, “And I always said you were full of shit, that they're all the same color green.”   

Y/N pushes her fingers through his. “Maybe you weren’t looking quite right.”

“I wasn’t,” he admits, never looking away from her eyes. “Something else captured my interest.”

A blush flames over her cheeks as she reaches out to give him a little shove. “Are you gonna show me this place or not?”

They keep their hands linked together as they make the rest of the trek, Y/N deciding to observe Bucky instead of the trees. In the last month or so he’s put on weight, adding to the lean muscles he already possessed. She reaches up with her other hand to thread her fingers through his long hair. “You’re really very handsome, you know.”

He smiles, “Thanks.”

“I drew you a bit, did I tell you? Actually more than that. I draw you a lot.”

His open grin fades a little then, “Y/N, baby,” he says as gently as he can, “you don’t really tell me much.”

“I don’t know any-,”

“No, I know,” he interrupts quickly. “There are other things you could share though. And you don’t and that’s okay. Like how you’re feeling or what you think about something. You just keep it inside.”

It’s true. She often lets her thoughts and feelings and truths sit inside her mouth or sometimes much deeper than that, inside of her heart. She tugs Bucky to a stop again. “That’s why I called. I’ve made my decision. I’m yours, if you’ll have me. I…believe you. You make me feel shaken and whole at the same time. And then there’s this strange little warmth in my chest when I look at you...I believe people call that feeling home.”

She opens her mouth to say more but gets cut off when his mouth lands on hers. Cupping one hand against her jaw, the other goes around her waist pulling her as close as he possibly can. The same warmth she just described spreads through him. It’s the same warmth that had invaded him the first moment he laid eyes on Y/N in her father’s office. He remembers her legs swinging from the overly large chair, the curious tilt of her head, and the way she had jutted her chin out when her father questioned her about why she saw potential in him as a boxer.

Her hands come up to fist in his shirt as they pull apart. She bumps her forehead against his and listens as Bucky tells her exactly what he had been remembering. “I remember that,” she murmurs, making hope swell inside him. “I remember that. And I didn’t see potential in you as a boxer. I saw it in you as a person, as a friend, as _mine_.”

“I’m yours Y/N. I always have been.”

“I know.” She crashes her lips hungrily against his again. “We should keep walking,” she whispers against his mouth as the light begins to fade.

He chuckles, “We’re here, doll.”

“I don’t want to keep secrets anymore. I don’t want to keep everything inside. I love you. I love you so much. I believe that you’ve told me the truth and nothing will deter me from that opinion again. You make me feel whole and home and loved and safe. I’ve spoken to Rumlow once truly and he-he made me feel scared and alone and trapped. I want you. I want us to be together, always.”

He’s breathing hard, holding her even harder when she tilts her head back, baring her throat to him. It only takes a second before he presses his mouth hotly to her exposed skin. Nipping hard he pulls back to meet her eyes. “I love you too. I want this. You are all I’ve ever wanted. But I’ve also always wanted you to be happy, and Columbia-,”

“My father.”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have held you back. I love you, Y/N. I don’t want to trap you and I mean this when I say I would rather die than ever raise a hand to you.”

She presses closer to him. “I know. I know. Bucky…I want you. I want you. Please. Please, take me. I need you.”

They don’t even bother with the blanket. Y/N isn’t even sure how they end up in the soft grass. All she knows is Bucky’s lips on hers and his hand drifting up her shirt to gently squeeze her breast. She pulls back from his lips, happiness spreading inside both of them, giggling and tangling her legs with his when a twig snaps.

And then another.

And then a voice rings out, “That’s my girl you’ve got your mouth on, Barnes.”


	17. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains triggers. For the sake of spoilers I won't say what. Read at your own risk. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

Bucky stares down at Y/N in pure panic. She looks terrified as another branch snaps under Rumlow’s foot. “Bucky,” she whispers, horror written all over her being. “Buck-,”

“He can’t help you sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice closer and deeper, a smirk hiding in its depths, spurs Bucky into action. “Go,” he whispers. Bucky rolls off of her, positions himself between her and the approaching man. “Go, Y/N! Right now!” He’s on his knees, hands raised, the picture of a desperate man.  

“No,” she sits up on her knees too and grabs Bucky’s shoulder. “No!” Y/N meets Rumlow’s eyes and starts to say something when her eyes drift down to his hand where a knife glints. She pales. “Rumlow, listen-,” Y/N starts to plead.

He shakes his head, “Uh-uh sweetheart, you made the wrong choice when you picked him a second time.” Rumlow’s eyes track her hand as she defiantly runs her hand down Bucky’s arm to his hand. She twists her fingers with his.

With a rebellious look on her face she meets his eyes. He laughs as he looks away and huffs out a disbelieving breath. “You don’t own me. And I don’t want you.”

“No. I don’t. Barnes does though somehow. Look at him,” he curls his lip. “On his knees. Letting you defend yourself when he should be on his feet for you. Defend you with everything he has. The truth is you don’t mean all that much to him. And yet he fucking owns you. Keep you, lose you,” he shrugs. “Doesn’t fucking matter to him.”

Bucky’s muscles coil and he starts to stand but Y/N tightens her hand, makes him stay in place. “We will defend each other together. I can’t be broken easily.”

Her hand slackens just a fraction and before she can stop him Bucky’s jumped to his feet and walked forward a few feet, getting right in the other man’s face. “Don’t you fucking talk about what I won’t do for her, for us. I’ll do fucking anything.” Bucky pays no mind to the knife in Rumlow’s hand.

“Rumlow,” Y/N says before Bucky can say anything else. “Please, I-,”

“Brock.” He interrupts.

She pauses and frowns, getting slowly to her feet as Bucky stays planted firmly between them. “What?”

A sick smile twists his features. “Brock. Say my name, baby. Say it sweet like you used to whisper to me.”

“I _never_ -,” she spits right as Bucky lurches for him. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated. And he’s angry and afraid where Rumlow is focused and calm. He dodges Bucky’s attack and grabs his bad arm, twisting it behind his back until he yells out in pain. She stares in horror as both men now face her. Brock has Bucky’s arm held in an angle that the slightest pressure from Rumlow will snap it. His other hand comes up to hold the knife at Bucky's throat, not yet touching his skin.

Bucky lets out a hard breath as he stares at Y/N. “I’m sorry Y/N. I'm sorry, doll.”

“Say it, Y/N. Say it. You would breathe it so sweetly to me when we were together. You were so happy with me. I made you happy. But no matter how many fucking times I shove Barnes down, prove that he's worthless and broken-,” he presses the blade into Bucky’s throat. “-you still fucking pick him. No matter how low and pathetic he is, you pick him. I erased your fucking memory and _somehow_ ….still him.” He shakes his head, “Not anymore, baby. _Now say my fucking name_!”

A bright red drop of blood rolls down Bucky's neck as she holds her hands out in a pacifying manner. “Brock,” she makes her voice sweet and low, seemingly submissive. “Please don’t hurt him.”

A beat of silence passes in which Brock adjusts his grip on Bucky so he has both arms twisted up behind his back. But Y/N has been watching Bucky at the gym for weeks. He’s stronger, larger. He could get out of Rumlow’s grip, she has a feeling, if it weren’t for the knife. Maybe she can distract Rumlow, get him to loosen his grip so Bucky can get away.

Her attention is brought back to them when Rumlow holds him harder, making Bucky wince and squirm, hissing when the blade then digs further into the delicate skin of his throat. “Why shouldn’t I? He’s kept me from you for years.”

“Brock,” she says gently. “I know. I didn’t tell Barnes,” she spits his last name, feigned disgust coating her tone. “But I remembered everything. And you were right. They’ve all been lying to me.” She meets his eyes and feels like she’s spitting poison when she whispers. “I love you. I always have. They’ve been trying to chain me to them but I want to be with you. I want you. I can’t fucking stand _him._ My skin crawls when he touches me. I feel nauseous when he looks at me.”

He seems confused for a moment and Y/N does everything in her power to keep her eyes on Brock’s face. Bucky’s will be filled with hurt and betrayal and if she sees him looking so twisted with pain it’ll only mirror on her own face and give them away. Bucky stays silent though, getting a sense of her plan.

Brock regains some of his composure, looks proud of himself. “I knew it, baby.” Sickness truly pours into her soul as he lets his eyes rove over her body. Y/N fights the urge to shield herself with her arms. “I want you to be a good girl and say it again. So, this one-,” the knife is pressed harder, more blood flowing downwards. “-will finally understand who you belong to. Say you love me.”

“I love you.”

A slimy smile overtakes his face. “My name.”

Her voice cracks with strain and emotion. “Brock.” Bucky meets her eyes briefly, sorrow and longing and an apology swimming there. “Now please…I know you can’t let him go but please promise you won’t hurt him.”

Rumlow ignores her, seems to be getting off on the sound of her voice alone. “You sound so sweet. Oh, Y/N, you used to sound so sweet for me. Withering and moaning underneath me. You told me to stop, tried pushing me away, but I knew you wanted it. I could hear it in the way you whimpered for me. I could feel it when you withered and then when you came-,”

All color has drained from her face. She didn't know. Her eyes swim with tears as they meet Bucky’s. By the look on his face, Bucky hadn't known either. And she knows in that moment that she won’t be able to control what happens next. His whole body is suddenly overcome with all consuming, righteous rage. “Brock,” her voice splinters again. “Stop talking.”

“What is it Barnes?" Rumlow shakes him roughly, "You never fucked her as good as I did-,”

The wrath breaks free. “ _You fucking raped her_!” Almost too easily Bucky twists away from Rumlow’s grip, although not without a sizeable slash to his neck. Rumlow starts to move forward to overtake an unbalanced Bucky.

Y/N darts forward and shoves at Brock, who nearly loses his balance when he grips her arm and flings her to the ground. His boot comes down squarely into the center of her back. “You’ll be punished for that.” He removes his foot only to bring it back down into her ribs so hard she sees stars and hears a devastating crack. There was no holding back with that kick and for several minutes she can't move, can’t even look up.

She looks up just in time to watch the two of them go to the ground. An animalistic scream leaves her. She won’t lose everything again, she won’t. But by the she manages to stand, her ribs in agony, they’re fighting in earnest. And she can’t see that fucking knife.

Rumlow rolls them so he’s on top, landing a punch to his jaw as Bucky struggles to kick him away. A sudden weakness seems to have overcome Bucky as she picks up a large stick and slams it into the back of his head with all her strength. When he slumps to the side, clutching his head, she sees where the knife has ended up. It’s lodged firmly in his stomach. Tears blind her eyes as she looks to Bucky’s face. “Please run, baby,” he whispers. There's a finality in his voice.

Rumlow is starting to recover himself. “No.” Bucky’s very pale.

“Please.”

“No.”

Rumlow laughs and Y/N looks over to him as he grips the other end of the branch and rips it away from her hands, scratching her skin and making her palms bleed. His face is starting to bruise horribly, blood is dripping from his mouth and ear. Comparatively, Bucky must have had the upper hand while she couldn’t move, until the knife that is.

Bucky is unharmed for the most part, the better fighter. 

Except for that knife.

“Better run, baby.” He grins at her with bloodstained teeth. “After this you’re mine forever. Or do you wanna watch Barnes bleed to death.” He grabs the hilt of the blade and rips it out before slamming in back it. A tortured scream rips past his lips and then Rumlow twists it. His yell is bloodcurdling, knocking the breath out of her. She wants to beg for his life but that isn’t what happens because she knows she has one better. Somehow, flight over takes her and the next thing she knows she’s flying through the forest.

Y/N hears another tortured scream.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she’s the more important prey and Rumlow can’t risk her getting away. He’d follow her. He might have said to run but he thought that Y/N wouldn’t dare leave Bucky’s side.

And someone does follow her.

This is her only way to save Bucky’s life. A strange sort of peace overcomes her as she runs as fast as her broken ribs will allow her to.

Y/N makes it to the creek before her vision starts to go and she trips. Rumlow darts out of the darkness and grabs her by her hair. Darkness has fallen around them as he drags her back and throws her onto a patch of grass.

He straddles her waist, letting his whole weight bare down upon her. Another scream rips through the air as he lands a hit to her broken ribs. “Fuck you, Y/N.” His fingers drag up her body, pausing only to roughly grope her breasts. “You always were a fucking fighter. Never knew your fucking place.” Rumlow slaps her hard as she cries out. “Stop screaming. Goddammit, you know I hate that.” His hand slips to her throat, “Good thing I know how to keep you silent.”

His hand lifts her head a few inches, only to slam her skull back into the ground.

This time her vision takes a full minute to come back during which Rumlow has been cursing her and groping anywhere he can. She scrabbles at his arms and face, digging her nails in hard.

She would prefer to die next to Bucky, looking into his eyes and reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault, that none of it was. But this is a close second, giving him a chance to get away.

Rumlow though, has had enough of her. His hand closes around her throat and starts to squeeze. There is an intention there, to kill her. It tightens and tightens as strange images start to swim in her vision. She thinks they might be her memories. How unfair, that they would come now.

A choked sob breaks free from her mouth which makes Rumlow press harder. Her eyes drift up and she realizes she can see the stars. The stars look back with such sadness it makes her cry harder because you'd think the earth was crumbling away with that amount of sadness. And maybe it is. She wonders if her sky is alright, if he's managed to stop the bleeding.

Rumlow leans down and kisses roughly her as her vision starts to blacken again. Y/N closes her eyes instead. Peace settles in her bones as she starts to lose consciousness, because she’s saving someone she loves. She loves him so much that she would die for him.

She can feel her death approaching. It's both warm and cold but the pain has stopped and it doesn't seem so bad.

Rumlow is laughing. He’s calling her a bitch. He’s making her silent forever. He’s making her his forever because he’s taking her life.

It doesn’t matter.

_“Y/N.”_

_“Hey Buck.”_

_He’s nestled between her legs, his head against her chest. “I love you.”_

_Her fingers thread through his long locks. “I love you too.”_

_Everything is white. The air is cool and soothing. White curtains flutter on the breeze. “Don’t leave just yet, darling. We have things to do yet.”_

_“I’m afraid.”_

_“I am too. But it’s not your time. I’m waiting for you to come back.”_

Someone knocks Rumlow away from her just as she finally stops breathing.  


	18. Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

She isn’t breathing.

And he’s slowly bleeding to death. Bucky’s hand shakes as he presses two fingers to her neck, trying to find a pulse. It’s faint but there and he nearly cries. She still isn't breathing.

He strokes some of her hair back before trying to remember what he knows about CPR. But he’s shaking so bad he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to do it properly. He can’t lose Y/N, he can’t sit here while her heart slowly stops beating. So, he positions his hands over her chest and hopes like hell that this isn’t the end.

His blood stains both of them. It coats the inside of his mouth, tears threaten to fall. There's so much blood and he feels like he might pass out from the blood loss and pain. But he keeps going. He won't lose her.

_This can’t be the end. This can’t be the end. This can’t be the end._

 

~

 

“…Drove up to the emergency entrance. He passed out and was lying on the wheel, making the horn just go on and on and on. People came out to help. We thought they were playing a prank until we saw the blood. God, there was so much blood. I’ve never seen that much blood. I don’t know how either of them are still alive. It was all mostly from him though.”

Y/N blinks slowly, tries to remember where she is. It all floods back to her suddenly. The forest and Rumlow and the knife and the blood. She should be dead. If she wasn’t... then maybe Brock had thought she was and went back to Bucky…

Sam is standing in the doorway of her hospital room talking to a nurse. “Sam,” she cries, struggling to sit up. “Sam! Where’s-,” But her voice is barely a squeak and he doesn’t hear her, which only makes her want to cry.

Talking makes her throat burn with pain and they seem not to hear her. Tears fall over her cheeks because she feels so powerless and fear is consuming her. She’s so afraid that he might not have made it. Y/N’s chest hurts, but so does her hands and her side and her face.

Nothing, however, aches as bad as her heart, her soul. Bucky might be dead. She should be dead. But if _she_ made it to a hospital then maybe-

“Sam!” She calls again, and this time he hears her as does the nurse.

And that turns out to be a mistake, as for the next ten minutes she isn’t allowed to speak. She’s fussed over and asked questions that no one waits for an answer to. She’s poked and prodded and examined before she looks at Sam with tear filled eyes. “ _Please_ ,” she mouths to him. It’s killing her and the longer they refuse to answer her questions the more she thinks something terrible has happened.

She’s choking out terrible sobs as she’s talked over. All she wants is the truth. All she’s ever wanted is the truth.

The medical team soon leaves however, having decided on some treatment without really having consulting her all that much, a whirlwind of white lab coats and drab faces. They warn her sternly not to talk. Largely, she ignores them.

“Bucky?” She asks Sam as soon as they’re blissfully gone, her voice cracking. Sam opens his mouth to reprimand her but before he can she lets out a horrific sob. “Tell me Sam. Is he dead?”

Sam sits down on the edge of her bed. “He’s going to be okay. You’ve been out for a few days. Things were unsure for a little bit. He, uh, Y/N, he had internal bleeding. It was really bad.” She must look panicked because he quickly says, “But he pulled through. He’s going to be fine. They had to do surgery but it all went fine. He’s just really worried about you.” Sam half rolls his eyes. “Leave it to Barnes to have nearly bled to death and be worried about you.

“He’s awake?” She whispers.

“Yeah. I’ll see if we can get you down to see him. He’s been…so afraid. We didn’t know if you’d be okay or not. Apparently you weren’t breathing for quite a while and they were worried about possible brain damage.”

She motions for Sam to help her sit up. He does, putting one hand behind her back as his other hand grips one of hers. “Is he alone? Tell me someone is with him, Sam.” Her voice hardly sounds like her own.

He shakes his head and rubs her back soothingly, “No, Steve is there. Y/N…everybody is wondering what happened. Barnes is insisting you tell the story together.” There’s a pause as Sam shakes his head. “Y/N….Rumlow is dead.”

“Dead?” Her voice squeaks.

A nod.

“Good.” Her voice is hard, or as hard as it can be when she can barely speak. “ _Good_.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches. She thinks he might want to smile. “Okay. Well I’m gonna go see about getting you down to Barnes.” She nods and Sam gives her a light hug, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

A small smile twists her lips. “Thanks Sam.”

It only takes him a few minutes for him to find a nurse who comes into her room with a wheelchair. The medical staff is, apparently, very disapproving of moving her around so soon. She doesn’t much care. They help her into the chair, plastic tubes trailing from her hands and her nose, Sam pushes the stand along that holds the medicines and oxygen. She’s anxious the whole way to his room, her leg bouncing, her fingers tapping nervously.

It seems to take an excruciatingly long time. She’s nervous. The last time she had seen him he had been near dead and a part of her thinks this is all some huge prank. That they’ll get there and it’ll be a morgue. They’ll ask her to identify his body and tell the story herself.

They suddenly arrive in front of a door right as she starts to truly drown in her own panic. Sam knocks and pushes it open. Bucky’s face is turned away from her as he looks at Steve who is sitting next to his bed. Steve smiles and points toward the door. “We’ll let you guys be,” Sam says as Steve gets up and moves toward the door as Sam pushes Y/N next to the bed. Before Steve goes he leans down and kisses Y/N on the forehead.

“Good to have you back.”

The door shuts behind them. For a few minutes they just look at each other. Her panic starts to subside and when Y/N reaches over and takes his hand, careful of the tubes running from both of them, it only solidifies the truth. They’re here, they’re alive, they made it. “You’re okay?” He asks.

She shakes her head and brings his hand to her mouth. “Yeah. What about you?”

“I’m fine, doll.” He runs his thumb over the back of her hand. “You sound pretty rough.”

“You’re looking pretty rough,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off of him.

Bucky face is bruised and he also has oxygen supply nubs in his nose to match hers. His hair is lanky and needs a wash. A pink tongue darts out to lick lips that are cracked. “You should see the other guy,” he tries to joke.

Fear steals into her heart. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

He looks flustered and so she quickly says, “No, I do. I do. I don’t…Sam said he’s dead.” Her voice is so hoarse and rough that she can barely hear herself. But Bucky does. He hears every word.

Bucky looks away and doesn’t say anything so she stands, legs shaky and weak beneath her. “Hey,” he says, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting in bed with you. I’m tired.” Bucky doesn’t hesitate to move over. Once they’re settled together she whispers to the ceiling, “You saved my life.”

“You saved mine first. He would have kept going if you hadn’t pulled that stupid stunt. He would have killed me. He would have killed us both.” He pauses for a moment and turns his head to look at her. “You ran because you knew he’d stop and follow you.”

She turns her head to look back at him, meet his eyes. “Keeping me was more important than killing you. It always has been.” Her eyes travel over the planes of his face before she meets his eyes again. “I remembered. I was thinking of you getting away and looking at the stars and my memories started to flood back. I think it was my life flashing before my eyes.” Her gaze hardens, “You were supposed to get to safety.”

Bucky tilts his head forward until their foreheads are pressed together. “If you remember anything about me, you’ll know that that was never a possibility. I was coming after you no matter what happened, or what state I was in.”

“I know. I still hoped.” She lifts one hand to his cheek, growling in frustration when the tubes in her hand tug at her skin painfully. “I wanted to give you a chance, a choice.” Another pause stretches between them as they examine each other. “I’m so sorry I put you through all of this. It’s all my fault. If I had just told you from the start that he was-,”

He shakes his head as she slides her thumb over his bottom lip. “None of it is your fault. We’d do anything to keep each other safe. And we did, baby.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the-the-,” she pauses and swallows and finally looks away from his eyes. “-the rape.”

The press of tears at the back of her eyes becomes too much again and spill over. “Sweetheart…” he says softly. “Baby, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I coulda said something and I didn’t. I let it happen.”

Bucky pulls her close ignoring the painful tug in his stitches. “No,” he says gently. “It will never be your fault.”

“I just want this to be over, Buck.”

He pats her hair gently, “It is, baby. We’re almost there.”

“They’re gonna ask questions again,” she murmurs into the crook of his neck. Its then, at the prospect of being asked intrusive questions, that she realizes the trauma they’ve just been through. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”

A shaky breath pushes past his lips, “Yeah.” And then, “You remember everything? From before?”

She stares at him, the person she’s loved nearly her whole life, and knows he’s not okay. She lets him deflect anyways. “I’m not sure how I can know if I’ve remembered _everything_. But I remembered quite a lot.” Her hand strays from his jaw to his neck. “I remember _you_.” Y/N lets her hand slide over the bandages wrapped around his neck and collarbones, knife slashes just beneath the surface.

“You should see yours,” he murmurs, sensing her rising distress the longer her gaze lingers on the bandages. “You’re bruised all the way around, baby.” Bucky takes her hands between his own. “He knew what he was doing when he ripped that branch out of your hands.” His fingers tremble around hers. “Knew he could take something important away from you. You never shared your art with him. Couldn’t wait to show everyone else…but never him.”

Y/N nods. “I remember,” she reminds him. “But Buck…you hand a-a knife sticking out of you. I was hardly concerned about my hands in that moment. Something else was at stake.” Tucking her face carefully against his neck, she gives him a light kiss. “Next story is going to be called: When to tell the truth.”

It's such a Y/N thing to say. A small wisp of a chuckle leaves him before he groans in pain. Before Y/N can get upset again he kisses her hair and whispers, “And do you know, in that moment, all I could think about is how upset you would be if he damaged your hands?”

Upon hearing his admission she goes completely still. And then she lets out a terrible little sob. “I love you, you idiot.”

Silence stretches after that as they both cry, clinging to each other desperately and trying not to disturb each other’s injuries.

Eventually Y/N falls asleep but Bucky won’t let himself. Every little noise makes him jump because he half expects Rumlow to come charging through the door. Even though he’d seen his lifeless body. Done it himself.

Every time he closes his eyes he can hear her screaming, feel her pulse slowing. He sees Rumlow with a knife in his hand and even worse his hand around Y/N's throat.

It doesn’t feel quite finished. So, he clutches Y/N tight, determined to keep her by his side and protected from the world.

Nothing and no one will be separating them again.


	19. Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know what you think.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Apparently he does fall asleep because when he wakes the police are standing in his room. They’re saying Y/N has to come with them, that Y/N and Bucky can’t stay together. People are shouting in the hall. He thinks it might be Steve and Sam.

Y/N is looking up at him with tired eyes, her head still against his shoulder. “I’ll go.” She whispers as the chaos in the corridor continues to rise. “They just don’t want us making something up together. Finalizing details.”

“No,” his voice is hard. “We were sleeping.” For some reason that fact seems really important to him. They were sleeping, they’re both tired and shouldn’t be disturbed. He presses his nose into her hair and inhales sharply. Someone is always trying to rip them apart.

“Miss?” A police officer says. “You need to come with us.”

“No.” Fear makes his voice shake this time.

“Buck,” Y//N whispers, pressing a hand to his cheek, turning her head to meet his eyes. “It’s okay.” Her voice is terrible and small, both from the pain in her throat and fear. She’s afraid. “I’ll be okay. It won’t be for long.”

His hands are shaking again and now the doctors are getting involved, telling them not to disturb the patients. “But I promised,” his voice cracks. “I promised that we wouldn’t be separated again.”

She pats his cheek. “You aren’t breaking any promises. I’ll be right upstairs.”

But there’s panic creeping into his eyes, wild and untamed. “Y/N,” he whispers as the noise in the room and in the hall reaches a crescendo. “You don’t understand. I can’t do this again. I won’t. I can’t fucking do it. I can't take this chance. What if you don’t come back? What if he’s alive-I-,”

A gentle shushing noise leaves her as she continues to stroke his cheek. “I won’t be far.” He presses his forehead against hers and pleads again. _Don’t do this. Don’t leave me._ It breaks her heart but she pulls away and takes the officers hand. “I love you, Bucky.” He looks betrayed, heartbroken. He looks like he’s never going to see her again.

But Y/N won’t stay there, not when they’ll be accused of collusion. Not when they might be accusing Bucky of murder and her being there could hurt him.

She lets the officer help her back into the wheelchair. There’s a deep aching in her chest as she’s taken back to her own room and fussed over again. She hadn’t looked back.

 

~

 

Two weeks pass in which they’re allowed no contact. Y/N is released from the hospital but Bucky is not. She hears the stories though. How he ripped his stiches open one night from twisting and turning in fear, and wakes up screaming every other night. How the stress of being kept and questioned and away from her is making him crazy.

She screams too. But at least she has Sam to come to her door and calm her. Bucky has no one but the cold attention of a nurse who cares little. The police have stopped questioning her yet show up nearly every day to his hospital room. They’re being entirely too thorough in her opinion. It’s clear to her what happened. It was self-defense, and Rumlow would have killed them if one of them hadn’t done it first.  

Nothing the medical staff says can change their minds, about the stress affecting Bucky negatively and impeding his recovery.  

Not only that, but the whole city has heard about the murder. They all seem to suddenly have an opinion about Bucky and Brock and Y/N. Some think Bucky is a cold-hearted murder, obsessed with Y/N. Some think the same thing about Brock. They’re on the local news nearly every damn night.

Their city isn’t small but it’s also not large enough to give her anonymity, and so now she can hardly leave the apartment.

Because although people are split about which is evil, Bucky or Brock, no one is split about whether or not Y/N is to blame for the whole thing. She led both of them on. She spurred the rivalry between them. They used to be best friends and she destroyed that, made them fight over her and hate each other. She’s a whore that got a little too greedy and in over her head.

The only thing she seems to be able to do is cry. And she can’t leave the house, she can’t see Bucky, she can’t turn on the TV, and everyone seems to hate her. People she doesn’t even know hate her. People who have known her since she was a child suddenly have doubts about everything she’s ever done. They think she deserves what happened to her.

So, she cries and waits for it all to be over, waits for it all to go away. All she wants is Bucky back, all she wants is for them to be together and safe.

But that is apparently too much to ask for.

She’s sitting in the living room of her father’s apartment staring at the blank wall ahead of her, thinking about what she could have done to prevent this from happening. Y/N starts to convince herself that it is her fault, and she burrows deeper into the blankets piled around her on the couch. Sam hands her a cup of coffee as he sits down next to her. He’s worried again, she can see it in his eyes. “You should paint.” He suggests, shrugging, “Or draw or write. Do something. Give it to Barnes when you see each other again. Shouldn’t be long now.”

Y/N shrugs back at him but doesn’t say anything, holding the hot mug between her hands, letting the heat of it seep into her skin. “He’s been writing to you.” Her head whips around to look at him, shock written on her face.

“No he hasn’t.” Her voice still cracks with strain when she speaks, sounding very much like she was losing her voice or just recovering it. “He doesn’t write to me.” It had always been the other way around. He claimed he was no good at it. And he wouldn’t try, not even for her.

Sam just shrugs and hands her an envelope with her name written on it before standing and leaving the room. His handwriting is neat and careful as though he had spent a great deal of time creating each letter of her name.

For a moment all she can do is stare openmouthed at the letter before she sets the mug down on the coffee table and rips it open.

_Doll,_

_I know we aren’t supposed to be communicating but I miss you too much not to. There’s something I think you should know. All these years that you’ve been creating for me, I’ve been writing to you too. It ain’t good and I ramble a lot about sappy things and I never told you because I was embarrassed about it. But when I get outta this damn hospital and back to you, I’m going to show you all of it. From when we were just kids to now._

_I’ve been writing something to you every day we've been apart. There’s so much I want to do and say. I love you, Y/N. I miss you so much, babydoll. More than you’ll ever know. This’ll be over soon, I promise. And I can’t wait to be back by your side. I’m so sorry about everything. You deserve so much better than this situation, so much better than me. But I hope you’ll still keep me._

_I know you’ve had it rough lately and that it’s largely my fault but I hope this helps. Keep your chin up and when we’re back together we’ll make something together._

_All my love,_

_Bucky_

She presses the letter to her chest and takes a deep breath, as her heart aches horribly.

Everything will be okay. They’re almost there. They’re almost to the end. They’ll be together soon, because they’ve done nothing wrong.

A tear tracks down her cheek as a shaky breath passes her lips. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks either. She knows what she’s been through and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thought about it.

Quickly, she hunts down a piece of paper and writes a letter back, scribbling out all her thoughts and love and only stopping when she runs out of paper. Then she seals it in an envelope and writes Bucky's name as carefully as he had written hers. She shoves it at Sam as she passes him in the hall and asks him to deliver it before going to her room.

There are plenty of canvases left over in her room and she immediately picks one up and sets it on an easel.

A smile curves her lips as she grabs some paints from a nearby drawer. She knows exactly what she’s going to create for him this time.


	20. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the last chapter! We have two more after this! Thanks for reading guys. And as always let me know what you think! 
> 
>  
> 
> Also! I wanted to let you guys know I go back to University tomorrow so I won't be posting as often but I WILL still be posting!
> 
>  
> 
> I love you all!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ You've been such kind readers and your comments mean everything. They often brighten my day ❤️❤️❤️

**Seven**

“Hey!”

The shout rings out over the boys surrounding Bucky. They laugh and one pushes him, finally getting him to go to the ground. His eyes clench shut, preparing for the inevitable punch to the gut.

But it never comes. He opens his eyes to see Y/N face to face with his tormentors’ leader. “Brock Rumlow!” She shouts. “Who do you think you are?”

Brock rolls his eyes in a way only an eight year old boy can. “Just showing the new guy around, Y/N. Leave it alone.”

Y/N opens her mouth again and Bucky quickly shuffles to his feet, gripping her wrist with bony fingers. “Its okay, Y/N.” His worst fear at the moment is that they might tire of him and start in on this stupidly brave girl.

If anything she just looks further outraged. She shakes his hand away, “He’s not new. He’s my friend and you’ll leave him alone.” Brock starts to scoff when she steps on his foot hard. “I said leave him alone!”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Do so! He’s been coming in the gym _all_ summer.”

Rumlow’s eyes narrow. “Has he?”

She grips his arm and shakes him hard. “You said you’d listen to me remember? You _promised._ So, listen. Don’t hurt him again.” Then Y/N holds her hand out to Bucky and walks him away from the group of boys. “Don’t ever let them do that to you.”

When he doesn’t respond Y/N grips his hand harder, “Promise me?”

“Promise, Y/N.”

A lot of people owed Y/N a lot of promises.

 

**Eleven**

“You can’t tell anyone,” Bucky begs. “Please.” His hands are scraped bloody and shaking as he holds them out to her. “Please, Y/N. _Please_.”

She can’t believe what she’s seeing. Or hearing for that matter. “You sure?” Y/N takes his wrist gently. “I don’t think someone’s mom or daddy could do this to them…” For Y/N, who had grown up in a home with only love, it seemed unfathomable that someone would do this to their baby. “You shouldn’t make things like that up,” she reprimands.

He yanks his hands out of her grip suddenly. “Shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t believe me and-,”

Upon seeing the panic on her friend’s face she says, “I won’t tell.” He looks up at her from his place on the park bench. It’s the middle of the day and hot, children laughing and playing as their parents take refuge under some trees. No one is paying them any attention. “I believe you.” Maybe it didn't make sense to her but Bucky wouldn't lie about something so important.

“Promise me?”

She huffs out an annoyed sigh. “I promise. Now…tell me won’t you? Where else are you hurt?” She thinks a minute before pulling Bucky up by his arm. “How can we make it stop?” A fierceness is already growing in her, ready to eat its way out of her soul to protect her friend.

There’s no way to make it stop, Bucky thinks. No way to ever be good enough so it didn’t happen. Because that’s why it happened. He simply wasn’t good enough. They had wanted a better son. But, for Y/N’s sake he says, “I don’t know.” Then, as she continues to lead him, he asks, “Where are we going?”

“There’s a first aid kit in the apartment.”

He digs his heels into the ground, “No! Y/N, I said you can’t-,”

“No one’s there.” She pats the top of his hand still in hers. “You can trust me. I promise.”

Later, when Bucky is patched up to the best of two eleven year old’s abilities, he thanks her. “I’d do anything for you, Y/N. Anything.” He has a large bowl of ice cream in his lap to make him feel better, one hand holding a spoon, the other hand is held by Y/N. “I mean it. You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

There’s already love in his eyes when she turns her head to meet his gaze. “Me too. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you, I promise.”

 

**Sixteen**

“I don’t want to talk to you, Barnes.”

He cringes. “Since when do you call me Barnes?”

“Since you broke my heart.”

For a moment he doesn’t say anything, debating how best to repair what has been broken. “I’m sorry,” he begins. “Y/N please let me explain. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

Y/N keeps staring out her window as Bucky moves behind her. “I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m sorry I kissed you and ran away. But I did _not_ do that on a dare. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I was afraid I’d already lost you. I was afraid you didn’t want me and I'd fucked everything up.”

She doesn’t say anything, instead lets the silence of the room wash over them. There had been such chaos today. Bringing Y/N back to her apartment after she had shown up in the gym covered in bruises had been worse than he anticipated. He did not think that everyone would immediately assume that he had been the one hurting Y/N.

Her father still doesn’t seem convinced.

“Y/N…please-,”

She suddenly whirls and kisses him hard. Her fingers catch in his shirt as she pulls him closer. “I have always loved you too.”

“You have?”

A small whine leaves her, irritation lacing the sound. “Yes. _Yes_.”

“Promise?”

 _“You_ promise _me._ Promise me this isn’t a joke? Promise me you mean this.”

“I promise.” His voice is reverent. “I promise, Y/N.”

 

**Twenty**

“I’m gonna marry you someday,” he murmurs against her wet skin, his lips ghosting over her neck.

She giggles against him, fingers running over his abs. “Are you?”

A frown etches into his features. “Yeah. I am. If you’ll have me.”

They’re in the showers at the ring. Everyone has since gone home after the match ended but Bucky had decided to celebrate his win with Y/N. First against the wall of the private locker room and then again on one of the benches in said locker room. Now they were supposed to be cleaning up to go home but her hand is wandering again, a mischievous smirk on her face.

Her fingers graze his hipbones. “Sure thing, Barnes.” Bucky tries not to feel rejected and hurt as she kisses along his shoulders and neck, her hand finally wrapping around his cock. The strokes are languid and slow, but at the moment he can’t much take that.

“Y/N,” he pushes her hand away. She stops immediately, looking up at him with concern. “I’m being serious. I want to marry you some day.”

She tries to grin, “For the sex-,”

“For you. I want you. Always.”

He presses his nose into her neck as her hands come up to push through his short, wet locks. “Really?”

“Really.” Bucky starts to kiss a path down her neck. “I want it to be me and you forever, doll.” He kisses lower, stopping to lavish her breasts for a moment. “I want us.” He’s on his knees, face pressed to her lower stomach, as his kisses her belly softly. “I’m lyin’ out my soul here, darlin’. Please say something,” he whispers when she doesn’t respond.

For a moment she can’t speak, the shock coating her soul just a little too much. “Well…If you were to ask…um,” she trips over her words. “I’d say yes.”

“Yes?” He asks, looking up at her.

She nods, pulling him up to stand with her, his arms bracing on either side of her, caging her in against the shower wall. “Yes.”

“Promise? When I ask, you’ll say yes?”

“I promise.” Y/N winds her arms around his neck. “Bucky….I promise I’ll always be your girl. I promise I’ll say yes.”

 

**Now**

Steve is standing in her bedroom doorway, watching her flit around the room, getting things exactly the way she wants them. “Excited?”

“Bucky’s coming home,” is her only response. “He’s coming home and they’ve stopped questioning him.”

Steve tries not to smile. “They just had to be sure. There was a lot of history to get through.”

“They compromised his health.”

“I know,” Steve’s voice is a surprising growl. “But he’s got you again.”

Y/N pauses and looks at Steve. “He’s always had me.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Not too loud tonight.” He even has the audacity to wink at her before he leaves the room.

She huffs out an annoyed breath before flopping back on the bed. Two days after she received Bucky’s letter she left her father’s apartment. She went about her life and let people stare and look at her with sympathy while she held her head high. Or while they hissed under their breath and glared at her.

They didn’t bother her. She had things to do.

And now, she gets him back. It's been a month. But she's getting him back nonetheless.

She smiles to herself, because maybe it’s finally over. Exhaustion overcomes her, having slep very little the last month, and Y/N falls asleep.

 

~

 

When she wakes someone is climbing into bed with her. “Lift your legs, baby.” Y/N recognizes the voice and so she does what it says. Lifting her legs, the blankets on the bed are tugged down and then up over her body, tucking her safely in.

He climbs into bed next to her where she immediately wraps her arms around him. A small _oof_ leaves him. “Go easy on me. Still healin’.”

“Bucky,” she whines, drawing out his name but loosening her arms all the same. “You’re here.”

“’m here.” He pats her hair. “I’m here, doll.”

For a while she doesn’t even open her eyes. Y/N just keeps her arms around his body, her face pressed into his shoulder as she takes deep breaths. If she focused hard enough she could smell him though all the hospital scents still lingering on his body. “To stay? For good?” She asks eventually.

When he doesn’t answer she looks up, panicking that something might’ve happened. Maybe they were arresting him and he simply hadn’t told her. Maybe he was there as a last goodbye. But when her eyes rove over his face she sees he’s just distracted. “Like it?”

“Did you…Are all these f-for me?”

She looks to where his eyes are glued. “Yes. You said you were giving me your writing. It’s only fair I made something for you.”

“You really have remembered,” he whispers in awe.

Y/N shrugs, “I don’t think I’m ever going to be the same person I was before all this…but these are our most important memories. In my opinion. Some of them...I don’t remember the whole of the situation so I supplemented with what you’ve told me.” She leans down to press a gentle kiss to his chest. She painted all their most important moments together.

He sighs heavily, “My writin’ is gonna look like shit now. Even more so.”

“It’ll be beautiful. Because you wrote it for me.” She meets his eyes, a blush coating her cheeks. “Can you answer my question?”

“Which one?”

“Is it finished? Can we finally just be? Are they taking us apart?”

Bucky reaches out to her and pulls her down onto his chest, even though it hurts a little. “It’s done. We’re together. I won’t ever leave you again unless you tell me to. And I hope you don't ever do that.”

Her fingers trail down his chest to his stomach, scrunching his shirt up so she can feel the bandages beneath. “I was so worried. I have nightmares. I dream that you-that he…killed you and left me alive. Or I dream that-that he makes me do it-,” her voice cracks and so does his heart. “And they told me you’ve been having them too-,”

“I have. But it’s okay. We’re here now.”

She sniffles, “God we’re gonna be so fucked up from now on.”

Bucky stokes her back lightly, his mind floating elsewhere. “Maybe so. But I’m okay with that. We’ll get through it together.” He pauses for half a second before asking. “Do you think your father forgave me?”

“Forgave you for what?”

Tension fills his body as he kisses the top of her head. “For hitting you.”

“You never hit me.” Her voice is hard, stern.

Bucky turns so they’re both lying on their sides and he can look into her eyes. “But he didn’t know that. And he knew I wanted to marry you.” His eyes widen as his heart gallops in his chest, “ _Do you remember_ -,” he starts to ask in a panic. 

Her fingers trail along his cheek down to the healing skin of his throat, now free of its bandages after a month. “I remember that.” She looks up, “I didn’t know dad knew.”

“I wanted to ask for his blessing.”

“Did he give it?”

Bucky swallows hard and looks away, “He did. But I don’t know how much he actually understood-,”

“He forgave you.” Their eyes meet again. “He did. He told me that sometimes he had his doubts about you but that you were always a good kid. If a little love-struck.” Her gaze travels back down to his neck, “You’re gonna scar here.” Her tone is distracted and worried.

Ignoring her last comment he whispers, “How could I not be love-struck?”

“When did you know?”

“As soon as I saw you.” His lips brush across her nose. “As soon as I saw you. I was seven years old and I knew.”

Bashfully she presses her face to his neck. “Love you too.”

“You wanna see your letters? You’ll see just how bad I've always had it.” She nods and releases her hold on him so he can riffle around on their cluttered bookshelf until he finds a shoebox. He turns and hands her the box as he sits on the edge of the bed and stares at the floor.

Its silent for a long time after that, as she reads through letter after letter of his thoughts and feelings of their life.

She giggles and reads aloud, “ _I asked you to go to the dance with me today, as friends like an idiot, and you told me no. You said you already said yes to Stark. Stark! Y/N, I love you, but I question your judgement at times. So, I guess it was a good thing I asked you as friends. I sorta hope you have an awful time. There’s always next year I guess. Probably wouldn’t have made a move anyways, just kept everyone else away from you.”_ She bursts out into full laughter and wipes tears away from her cheeks, “You were a little punk for a seventh grader.”

He shrugs sheepishly. “Did you have an awful time?”

“I did,” she nods, smiling. The letters go on and on like that, all the way up until his last day in the hospital.

She reads her favorite out loud. “ _Baby. Today I said I love you. And even though I’ve known it since forever I was still worried about saying it in a romantic way. You didn’t even look up at me. You just kept reading, the breeze made you sniffle a little. The sun was just starting to set and you looked so beautiful in our meadow. You squeezed my hand and said it back like it was the easiest thing in the world. Today is the happiest day of my life.”_

Y/N nearly pounces on him after that, Bucky needing no encouragement in shedding his own clothes. Because of his stomach they have to maneuver a little differently, finding a way to not upset his wounds.

They end up with Bucky’s back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him as Y/N sinks down on his length. She folds her legs behind his back and rocks against him slowly. “Tell me if something hurts.”

“Alright doll,” he grunts, knowing he won’t last long for her, that they’ve been separated for too long for him not to come fast. “Baby-,”

“I know,” she clutches her arms around his head, pressing his face to her shoulder. “Me either.”

His hands go to her hips, pulling her along just a little faster than she was going. “You feel so fucking good. Like we were made for each other.”

“Like puzzle pieces,” she murmurs into his hair.

Bucky shivers and falls apart when she bites his shoulder hard, crying out against him. “Fuck. Yeah, baby. You’re my puzzle piece.”

They don’t move for a very long time. Carefully not moving so he stays inside her, wrapped perfectly around each other. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

She doesn’t respond, tears flowing too thickly. But she kisses his jaw and then his neck and he knows that she loves him too. Eventually she manages a weak response against the skin of his throat, “I promise. Forever. I promise.”

He murmurs it back, something about it seeming very familiar.


	21. After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this one! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Buck!”

He smiles and huffs out a hard breath. “Hey, babydoll.” Sweat drips down his brow which he hastily wipes away as he turns. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Y/N lets her bag drop to the floor and grins. “Guess who’s officially done with college?” She spreads her arms wide and gives him a toothy smile.

In an instant he’s pulling her into his arms, “Congratulations, Y/N!” One of the first things Y/N had done after they were back together again was figure out how she could finish her last semester of college. _After_ giving themselves time to settle. _After_ going to therapy. _After_ finding an apartment for just the two of them. “I’m proud of you, doll.”

“Thanks, Buck.” She kisses his sweaty temple and pulls away, worry now etched on her face.

Anxiety floods him suddenly, immediately echoing hers. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? What’s wrong?”

He keeps his arms tightly around her waist as she reaches up to rest her hands on either of his biceps. “Nothing. We just need to talk.”

Ice water seems to be swimming in his veins instead of his blood now. “About what?” He asks cautiously, knowing nothing good ever came from the words _we need to talk_.

“Just something,” she doesn’t look at him. “I don’t know how you’ll react and so I’m a little wary.” A weak smile pulls on her lips as she presses a kiss to his jaw. “So…me, you, a little wine? Our bed? Say eight? I’ll tell you then.” Her mouth travels down his jaw to his neck where she nips at him a little before soothing her tongue over the small sting. “How’s that sound?” His eyes flutter closed for a second as he stifles a quiet moan.

Bucky reaches up to curl one finger under her chin, so she’ll meet his eyes. “That sounds like heaven, babydoll.” The worry he felt is quickly dissipating for the moment. She wouldn't want to have dinner and lie in bed together if she was planning to break it off with him, or something equally as horrible. 

“Good,” her hands sneak under his shirt. There’s a mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she says, “Can’t wait to get my hands on you.” Her hands flit over the waistband of his shorts.

And just like that she’s gone, flitting away from him with a small laugh. It’s like watching two different people almost. Y/N from before the ordeal would have teased him more. Her fingertips would have ran over the outline of his dick as she whispered both filthy and goofy things in his ear. She would have laughed loud and wild when she ducked away. But Y/N after the memory loss wouldn’t have done any of that, would have been too nervous and hot to do anything other than kiss him and fret over whatever it was she wanted to tell him later.

She’s a strange combination of both now.

It doesn’t matter. Because she’s still her, fundamentally, at her core. They’re connected in a way that’s apparently very hard to sever, if not impossible. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Bucky watches her pick up her bag and coat. Winter is now firmly upon them and he can’t say he minds after last summer, after last spring.

A quick wave is thrown his way before she dashes out the door into the snow. He used to hate the winter. Because of his parents mostly, the way they could toss him outside, deny him proper clothes for the weather, send him out with wet hair. He was always so cold but now, as he watches Y/N spin around and tilt her head back to catch a snowflake on her tongue, he doesn’t mind so much.

Especially when he knows that later he’ll get to keep warm with Y/N in their bed, his naked skin pressed to hers. Especially when their spring and summer had been one of the worst of his life.

 

~

 

“You want to do what?”

“Eat on the balcony!”

Bucky stares, arms folded across his large chest, “Why?”

She pouts, “Fine. We can eat in here.”

And Y/N looks so put out that he reaches out for her and winds his arms around her body. “Just explain to me why, sweetheart.” He presses his face to her neck and sighs, “Can’t you just tell me what it is you need to tell me? I’ve been worrying all day about it.” She doesn’t seem to realize his concern is actually deep anxiety.

They’re standing in their kitchen by the stove, food ready and covered by tinfoil to keep warm. “I wanted to be romantic,” she grumbles against him. “The balcony is covered so we wouldn’t get snowed on. We could light candles and take out all the blankets. We would eat and then snuggle. And when it started to get really cold you could pick me up and take me to bed.” She pulls back and wiggles her eyebrows at him suggestively. “And warm me up that way.”

Deciding to humor her and willing to do anything for her anyways, he sighs. “Alright. I’ll get the food. You go get some blankets.”

She smiles brightly and presses a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, Buck.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to get setup outside. They sit with their backs to the wall, the table in front of them filled with hot food. Y/N lights candles and uses one of her overly large blankets to drape around both their shoulders as they huddle together on a bench seat. Another blanket is pressed over their laps, their legs tangled together.

Y/N hasn’t stopped smiling and it’s such a nice change from the haunted look that often adorns both their faces that he can’t even be bothered by the harsh cold.

They’ve both been in therapy since Bucky was released from the hospital. They both often have nightmares and wake in cold sweats, grasping roughly at the other person. There were nights when neither of them could sleep and they paced the floor of their apartment until one might think they’d wear a rut into the floor. Somedays they ran on coffee and somedays they couldn’t get out of bed.

But they made it work, because they had to.

So he pulls Y/N as close as he can and lets her talk about her last day as an undergrad. She tells him how she can’t wait to have her degree in her hands. Bucky just buries his face in her neck and listens to her, voice soft and careful in the silence of the winter night.

He draws the line about sitting outside when Y/N starts to shiver uncontrollably. But she tugs him to a stop before he can move. “I’m going to New York.”

Something like panic fills him, every muscle in his body going taut with tension. “You’re-,”

“Bucky…look at me.” His eyes meet hers. “Sam told me what they offered _you_ in New York. That’s a big opportunity and you said no. You didn't even ask me about it. So, I applied for grad school. In New York.”

Bucky stares at her. “They only want me because of our story.”

“They want you because you’re good.” She smiles gently and places a hand against his cheek, “The publicity only helps.” A few months ago someone had heard their story, about Bucky’s boxing career and about what had dropped him of the game. Then a reporter had called and the next thing they knew there were articles about them in several major newspapers and online. “And I got into Columbia. Again. And I want us to go together.”  

For a while its silent as Bucky mulls it over. She presses her nose to his neck and huddles close, trying to keep both of them warm. His arms wind around her, whispering into her hair, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?”

“What if you wanted to stay here? We’ve never lived anywhere else. We know this place.”

She sighs, “I think it’s time we started a new chapter. Somewhere else.”

“So…you want to?”

A loud laugh leaves her, half-startling him. “I’m the one asking _you_!”

“Then, yeah. You already know I’d follow you anywhere, doll.” His lips whisper over hers. “I’d follow you anywhere. I’d do anything for you.”

Y/N frowns then and pulls away from him. “But do you want to? I don’t want you to do things you don’t want to do because of me. I want us to be happy. _Both_ of us.”

“Oh, baby,” he whispers when tears start to track down her face. “I know things have been hard. I know everything isn’t perfect. But I do want this. I wanted it when they offered me a spot there but I thought it might be too much change. We’ve been through a lot together and I don’t want to do anything to disturb the peace we have. I don’t want to ask too much of you. How could I ask you to leave?”

Tears continue to stream down her face as she wiggles close again. “No. You've never asked for too much.”

“Then let’s go.” Bucky squeezes her tight, “Next adventure.”

Y/N kisses him then, hard and full. It’s a wet and cold sort of kiss and it takes Bucky nearly no effort at all to convince her to let him take her to bed. He carries her and lies her down softly, everything on the balcony forgotten. “You’re mine,” Y/N whispers, staring up at him with loving eyes.

“I am,” he murmurs reverently. “I am. I always will be.”

Their skin is ice cold against each other, mouths hot and desperate. “How soon?” She murmurs as Bucky rids her of her jeans and panties.

A kiss is pressed to her belly, “Summer.”

“Good,” she gasps as he presses his tongue to her folds. “My pr-program starts in the fall.”

He wraps his lips around her clit and sucks hard, happy when she moans and grips his hair, hips grinding toward his face. “Keep tellin’ me about it, baby. Love it when you talk to me.”

Y/N tries to, Bucky quickly turning it into a game. If she mumbled or slurred her words or stopped talking entirely, he’d stop what he was doing and pull back. He’d watch as she squirmed, desperate for some friction, some sort of pleasure.

It’s good. Bucky fucking loves it as he can hear how her voice becomes more desperate and wrecked as time goes on. Her voice cracks on every word she speaks as she describes her perfect apartment. A moan leaves him when her hands tug hard on his hair. “Please Buck,” she whispers. “I need it. I want you to make me come.”

“You want to? Wanna come on my face, baby?” She moans loud and gives an affirmative answer. “Better keep talkin’ to me then,” he laughs against her. “Tell me about what you wanna study-,”

Y/N thrusts her hips upwards, “I wanna have you on your knees in that apartment. Telling me how much you want me. I want you to come home every night and ravish me. I want your cock on my tongue-,” she starts to tease him back, voice a heady moan, when he presses his mouth back where she wants it. It’s then she notices him grinding his own hips against the bed. “You little shit. If you get off before me-,”

“I want you to come,” his voice is desperate suddenly. “Please Y/N, I need you to come so I can get inside you. Baby, please-,”

“Not sure I want to now. I’m having fun. Thinking about you taking me against every flat surface of our new place. Or better yet…giving you head in every room. My lips wrapped around you-,” she cuts off in a laugh when he whines desperately against her, determined to make her come. “You’re so _good_ with your mo-mouth, James.”

His stomach is in a tight ball, need twisting around his spine, “Please come, Y/N. I can feel you holding back. Stop teasin’ me-,”

A tiny mewl works its way past her lips as he hastens to put his mouth back on her. She comes hard, Bucky lapping gently at her, tasting everything she has to offer, until Y/N pushes his head away from her sensitive folds.

Bucky moves up her body to kiss her lips then as she smiles. “Can’t help it,” she murmurs. “It’s fun to tease you.”

“And we’ve never been serious have we?”

“Never.” She kisses him sloppily, licking at his bottom lip. “Love you.”

He moans against her lips. “Love you too, baby.”

“Show me,” her eyes are alight, happiness and laughter shining there. “Show me.”

Bucky does. Over and over, as many times as he can. She looks like heaven when she comes, thighs shaking, mouth open, pretty eyes rolled back. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be. The only place he ever wants to be is where Y/N is.

They fall asleep curled tightly together, their skin covered in drying sweat.

 

~

 

Y/N has her fingers buried in his hair when he wakes. He’s cut it short again and so recently she’d taken to massaging his scalp rather than playing with the ends. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” Before he can ask she continues on to say, “Same as always.” She leans forward to brush her nose against his. “What do you want to do after New York?”

He chuckles lightly and meets her eyes. “Already planning past New York?” He's only teasing her, really happiness floods him that Y/N is thinking about the rest of their lives.

Embarrassment floods her and so she stays quiet, hoping Bucky won’t notice. But he does, as he always does. “Hey…what is it?”

She shakes her head softly, “Nothing.” She smiles. “My dream wasn’t quite the same as always. We went to New York and you forgot about me. There was a prettier girl who wasn’t so keen on settling down. Fun, you know.” He opens his mouth but she continues. “I wanted to settle. Somewhere small and safe when you were through with boxing and you laughed.”

“Baby…I told you already. I want to be where you are. I’ve always wanted to settle down. You know that. We’ve seen enough drama to last a life time.”

She buries her nose in his neck and huffs out a breath.

Silence stretches until he whispers that he loves her against the shell of her ear again. “Wherever you go, I follow. Nothing is as important as you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He chuckles, “Maybe we skip New York altogether?” She shakes her head no but he can feel her smiling against him.

The next day they start packing and Bucky gives her a ring. She slips it on and kisses his cheek and he knows. The ring never comes off her finger, once slipped on it stays forever.


	22. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story. I love you all. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

* * *

There are days when things are still bad, even years later.

Y/N wakes up to a storm outside, the windows open and the air whipping around, and no Bucky in bed. She gropes at the sheets, eyes still closed before she comes to that realization that he’s not in bed with her.

A sigh passes her lips, exhaustion tugging at her. Really she just wants to roll over and fall asleep. But Bucky wouldn’t leave her if she wasn’t in bed. He would search her out and make sure she was okay.

Especially lately.

They’re coming upon the five year anniversary of when Rumlow nearly killed them both, and the dreams that plague Bucky and Y/N occur nearly nightly. So, she sits up and lets her feet find her slippers as thunder rumbles in the sky.

She moves slowly through their cottage, worn wooden floor beneath her feet creaking gently. A soft glow of light leads her to the kitchen where Bucky stands in the near darkness of the room as one candle flickers, bent over the countertop, hands braced hard against the stone.

He’s only wearing boxers. Every line of his hard body is tense and bunched, looking every bit like he’s expecting to be attacked. Some instinct tells her to keep her distance for the moment and so she pauses in the doorway.

“Baby?” she calls softly, trying not startle him. Bucky’s back is covered in thin sheen of sweat and when he turns there are purple circles under his eyes. “Buck…” A terribly worried tone coats her voice.

A long moment passes as they just stare at each other. “Sorry,” he says, ducking his head. Shame radiates from him, her heart seizing when he refuses to look back up from the floor. “Nightmare.”

Her mouth becomes a thin line. “Nothing to apologize for.” Y/N steps a bit closer. “Wanna talk about it?”

Cool air swirls past them from the open window before another crack of thunder sounds. He surprisingly nods. Usually Bucky’s very resistant to telling her something upsetting. Which in turn is just something else they’ve been working on lately in therapy. “It was different this time…Will he ever leave us alone? I just…I want us to be normal.”

She steps closer and closer until he can wrap his arms around her, until he can ground himself with her touch. “He’s dead. There’s nothing he can do to us anymore.” Her fingers splay over his back as she massages the tight muscle carefully.  

“I know,” his nose presses into her hair. “I know.”

They had stayed in NYC for four years. Enough time for Y/N to graduate from law school and for Bucky to build a reputation. He had retired officially a year ago and asked Y/N to move away with him. The city that never sleeps was a lot for them to handle along with their trauma. And so they had. They had moved to upstate New York and stayed there. When they had first found the little cottage it had been hard to leave. It’s perfect and quiet and safe. But somehow a dead man, one that had tormented them both when alive, still managed to invade their space. Somedays it was Y/N pacing in the middle of the night in sheer panic. Tonight it just happened to be quiet fear from Bucky. Somedays it was almost like having a third occupant in the house, Rumlow carefully just always out of sight, hiding in the shadows.

Y/N presses a gentle kiss to his collarbone. “What happened? Tell me what happened in the dream?”

He shakes his head slowly, sadly, and then suddenly drops to his knees, pushing her nightshirt up to lie a kiss against the small bump of her stomach. “We had the baby and we were so happy when we brought him home. But that same night the baby was crying and you weren’t in bed. I went to check on him and when I got there…Rumlow was already there. He had our baby is his arms. Rocking him carefully…and then he looked over and _smiled_ at me.” His voice drops, “I don’t remember what happened after that. All I know is that I never found you.”

Her fingers thread through his hair. “He’s dead. He can’t touch us or our baby.” His hair is damp against her fingers with sweat and he shakes just a little. “I know it’s hard to remember sometimes. I know it’s been a part of our lives for so long, this fear and panic…but he can’t hurt us anymore.” Something inside her warms when Bucky presses another kiss to her belly. She’s hardly even showing yet, just a small round bump, the promise of something.

“Doesn’t feel real,” Bucky mumbles into her stomach. “Feels like he’s still here.” And then the truth comes out. “I don’t feel like I’m able to protect you or the baby. I never have been able to. I’ve always been selfishly unaware when he hurt you.”

A part of her heart chips away as she tightens her grip on his hair. “Oh, sweetheart, you did your best. We both did. You did what you thought best and that’s all I could have asked for. Besides,” she intones, “We won. We’re here. He couldn’t pull us apart and I’m only here because you were there to save me.” Y/N leans over him and presses soft kisses against his hair before sinking down next to him on the floor. His hands settle around her hips as she sits, nervousness radiating from him.

“Careful doll.” His voice is soft. “Please.” Bucky leaves his hand on her belly, fingers rubbing smooth circles as she settles herself in his lap when he leans back against the kitchen cabinets. Darkness surrounds them, lightening licks across the floor, “We’re okay.”

“We are.” She puts her hand over his, “And we’re having a baby.” An excited squeal coats her voice, “A _baby_. Me and you. And we’re gonna be great parents.”

He presses his forehead against hers and tries to stifle his anxiety, his worry that he wouldn’t be enough, like always. “You aren’t alone.” Y/N whispers to him suddenly. “You have me.”

A smiles tugs at his mouth. “I know. We’re doin’ alright, huh?”

“Yeah,” she grins. “We are.”

Y/N pecks his lips once and lets him sit on the floor with her for as long as he likes. Only when he’s calm and reassured does he pick her up, blow out the candle, and carry her to bed.

 

~

 

“ _Girl_ ,” she grunts hard, gipping Bucky’s hand. “She’ll be a girl.”

Bucky doesn’t respond for a moment as she screams and tightens her hand on his until he winces. “It’ll be a boy, doll.” The contraction passes.

She whips a fierce glare over at him. “I’m having a _baby_ ,” she roars. “One _you_ put inside of me. The least you could do would be to agree with me.”

Almost on reflex he says, “Well doll, I’m already holding your hand.” It’s meant as a joke but right then probably wasn’t the time.

The nurse laughs as Y/N throws his hand away from hers, tears now streaming down her face. “Fine. I can do this-,” She cuts herself off as another contraction starts and then slowly passes. “-myself.”

“We’re ready to start pushing,” the doctor says.

“Baby,” Bucky murmurs. “Give me your hand. I’m sorry. You’re right. She’ll be a girl.”

She only curls her fist in the sheet defiantly and pushes when the doctor says to. The nurse winks at him when Y/N starts crying in earnest half-way through the second push. “Please, babydoll?”

Her hand fits inside of his before she starts pushing a third time. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never.” Bucky brushes his mouth over the back of her hand, encouraging her lowly and apologizing about his opinion over the sex of their child.

Right when he thinks he’s probably going to lose his hand her grip is so tight, the doctor says, “Last push!”

Y/N looks over to him in pure panic, big, watery eyes seeking out his. “I can’t do it. I can’t. How-how am I supposed to raise a baby? Who let me do this? I don’t-I can’t-,”

“Doll,” he says calmly, smile on his face, “You aren’t alone. I’m right here with you. Now push one last time. Bring our baby into the world.”

Her eyes clench closed and she gives one final, large push, a scream passing her lips. Something changes, she can feel it. And then…crying. “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. You have a little girl.”

The baby is pressed to Y/N’s chest as she wiggles and cries. Y/N doesn’t even look up as she gently presses her fingers against her child’s small form, and whispers, “I told you so.”

The only thing Bucky can do is laugh, tears in his eyes.

 

~

 

“Y/N?” Bucky holds their baby, newly home from the hospital in his arms. Y/N can hardly convince him to ever put her down. Although she knows why he doesn’t. He’s so afraid something might happen to her. “Y/N?” he calls again. “Where are you?” He’s been searching all though the house for her.

Eventually he finds her in their bedroom. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” her voice cracks with some ignored emotion. “Lemme see my little girl.” Almost reluctantly Bucky hands her over. “Oh look, Buck.” Bucky climbs in bed beside them and looks down at his daughter. “Look, look at her eyes.”

His arm loops around her back as he pulls both of them close, “Just like her mama’s.”

“Mine could never shine like that,” Y/N whispers, resting her head against his shoulder. “Why do you have your shirt off?” A noise akin to a purr leaves her as she nuzzles her nose against his skin.

Bucky kisses the top of her head, “Skin to skin, remember?” They’re both silent, awe radiating from them as they stare at their child. “Why’re you hiding out in here, babydoll? She needs to be fed before everyone gets here.” Steve and Sam and a few of their other friends are supposed to come and visit the new baby today.

With that she breaks into tears. “They _hurt_. My nipples are chapped and fucking raw and it hurts, Buck. And I feel so horrible about hiding but-but-but,” she sniffles, voice hitching as his heart breaks for her. “We might have to give her the milk I expressed earlier with the bottle because-,” A fresh wave of tears start, “But I’m afraid she won’t latch again if we give her the bottle and I feel so bad and-,”

“Sweetheart,” he cuts her off, a smile of his face. “It’s gonna be okay. The bottle will be okay.”

“I’m a bad mother,” she whispers, staring at her daughter’s face, one finger tracing her round cheek. “I’m so bad at this. I can’t even feed my baby.”

“You think you’re a bad mother because you’re sore? Y/N, its okay. It will be okay. Besides, it gives me a chance to feed her. She’ll latch again when you’re ready. She will,” he repeats when her bottom lip trembles. “Want me to go get the bottle so she can eat?” Y/N nods sadly, letting Bucky shift away from her. Before he can get up through her fingers catch at his arm. “Y/N?”

Grace has fallen asleep in her arms. “You were wrong.” Her voice catches in her throat, giving Bucky time to panic about what he might have been wrong about. Maybe she was regretting her choice to have a child with him. Her fingers graze his cheek. “You’re already a wonderful father. You’re so patient and reassuring. And I love you so much. I’m so glad we made it.” She glances at Grace and then the ring on her finger. “We made it.”

Realization clouds his features. “We made it.”

“We did. We’re here.”

Before he can go get the bottle he pulls his girls into a hug. It’s long and silent and good and everything he’s been through in his life seems worth it all of the sudden.

Bucky thinks it’s the end when the feeling of _worth it_ overcomes him. Of finally being worth it after all these years. He feels it in his soul. It’s only years later when he’s being attacked on all sides by his three giggling daughters and Steve’s and Sam’s sons that he realizes it wasn’t a one off thing.

It’s a continuous feeling of home and belonging and safety and being good at something. It’s a feeling that changes and reshapes and bends but at its core is always the same. He likes being a dad and a husband. He’s good at it.

At the center of it all is Y/N, always smiling at him, picking him up off of icy roads and skipping school and patching him up and kissing him and saying _I love you_. Even when sometimes he wakes and forgets that Y/N has remembered or that Rumlow is dead, she is there whispering worth it’s and I love you’s.

And when he thinks his heart can’t get any fuller, Y/N tells him she’s pregnant with their fourth. A full, wild house echoes around them as they stand in their cluttered, crazy bedroom, smiling at each other. He wouldn’t have it any other way. The fullness and happiness having been something he’s craved his whole life.

And to think…if his mother hadn’t thrown him out that fateful morning, accused of something he can’t remember, he would have never went down to the boxing studio, hell bent on being able to fend off his old man’s punches, directed toward him or anyone else. He would have never opened that office door and met the love of his life, his only girl, his savior, Y/N.

He never would have found his home.


End file.
